An' aye as the wind blew
Thy cradle did rock.
An' hush-a-ba, baby,
O ba-lilly-loo;
An' hee an' ba, birdie,
My bonnie wee doo!

Hee O, wee O, etc.

We see continually how dear to the songs of childlife are the mention of
birds and all things sweet in the round of everyday life. Here now--

HUSH-A-BA BIRDIE, CROON.

Hush-a-ba birdie, croon, croon,
Hush-a-ba birdie, croon;
The sheep are gane to the silver wood,
And the coos are gane to the broom, broom,
And the coos are gane to the broom.

And it's braw milking the kye, kye,
It's braw milking the kye;
The birds are singing, the bells are ringing,
The wild deer come galloping by, by,
The wild deer come galloping by.

And hush-a-ba birdie, croon, croon,
Hush-a-ba birdie, croon;
The gaits are gane to the mountain hie,
And they'll no be hame till noon,
And they'll no be hame till noon.

A prime favourite--none excelling it--has been

DANCE TO YOUR DADDIE.

Dance to your daddie,
My bonnie laddie,
Dance to your daddie, my bonnie lamb;
And ye'll get a fishie,
In a little dishie,
Ye'll get a fishie when the boat comes hame!

Dance to your daddie,
My bonnie laddie,
Dance to your daddie, my bonnie lamb!
And ye'll get a coatie,
And a pair o' breekies--
Ye'll get a whippie and a supple Tam!

By the bye, as touching the lullaby order of these songs, it is
interesting to note that, no matter of what age or nation they may be,
they are all but regularly made up on precisely the same plan. There is
first the appeal to the child to slumber, or to rest and be happy; then
comes the statement that the father is away following some toilsome
occupation; and the promise succeeds that he will soon return laden with
the fruits of his labour, and all will be well. We have been seeing, and
will see again, how the Scottish go. The Norwegian mother sings:--

Row, row to Baltnarock,
How many fish caught in the net?
One for father and one for mother.
One for sister and one for brother.

Even the Hottentot mother promises her child that its "dusky sire" shall
bring it "shells from yonder shore," where he has probably been occupied
in turning turtles over on their broad backs. The Breton song goes:--

Fais dado, pauvre, p'tit Pierrot.
Papa est sur l'eau
Qui fait des bateaux
Pour le p'