The little sandman

Beneath the silv’ry moonlight, like tiny sparkling gems,
The florets all are sleeping upon their slender stems.
The trees wave gently to and fro and whisper soft and low:
‘Slumber, slumber, my darling baby dear’.
The trees wave gently to and fro and whisper soft and low:
‘Slumber, slumber, my darling baby dear’.

The birds you heard this morning have long since gone to rest,
And now are close together against their mother’s breast.
And there they lie, so still and warm, secure from ev’ry harm.
‘Slumber, slumber, my darling baby bear.’
And there they lie, so still and warm, secure from ev’ry harm.
‘Slumber, slumber, my darling baby bear.’

Now comes the little sandman; in ev’ry house he’ll peep,
To find the naughty children who will not go to sleep.
And then a little sand he tries to sprinkle in their eyes.
‘Slumber, slumber, my darling baby dear.’
And then a little sand he tries to sprinkle in their eyes.
‘Slumber, slumber, my darling baby dear.’