Lullabies and Songs of Old

Lullabies and Songs of Old

( 10 . 10 . 2020 )

1. sleep, little pigeon
2. long ago
3. nightfall in dordrecht
4. norse lullaby
5. armenian lullaby
6. nellie
7. little croodlin doo
8. balow my bonnie
9. by the sea
10. sometime

from poems by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

© Sara Garrard 2020

10 songs written 10 October, 2020.  Voice, ukulele, piano.

lyrics:

1. sleep, little pigeon

Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,—
Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes;
Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging—
Swinging the nest where her little one lies.

Away out yonder I see a star,—
Silvery star with a twinkling song;
To the soft dew falling I hear it calling—
Calling and twinkling the night along.

In through the window a moonbeam comes,—
Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;
All silently creeping, it asks, “Is he sleeping—
Sleeping and dreaming while mother-bird sings?”

Up from the sea there floats the sob
Of waves that are breaking upon the shore,
As though they are groaning in anguish, and moaning—
Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more.

But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,—
Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes;
Am I not singing?—see, I am swinging—
Swinging the nest where my darling one lies.

2. long ago

I once knew all the birds that came
And nested in our orchard trees;
For every flower I had a name
My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees;
I knew where thrived in yonder glen
What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe
Oh, I was very learned then;
But that was very long ago!

I knew the spot upon the hill
Where checkerberries could be found,
I knew the rushes near the mill
Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound!
I knew the wood, the very tree
Where lived the poaching, saucy crow,
And all the woods and crows knew me
But that was very long ago.

And pining for the joys of youth,
I tread the old familiar spot
Only to learn this solemn truth:
I have forgotten, am forgot.
My heart would wish me back again,
Back with the friends I used to know;
For I was, oh! so happy then
But that was very long ago.

3. nightfall in dordrecht

The mill goes toiling slowly around
With steady and solemn creak,
And my little one hears in the kindly sound
The voice of the old mill speak.
While round and round those big white wings
Grimly and ghostlike creep,
My little one hears that the old mill sings
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”

The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn,
And, over his pot of beer,
The fisher, against the morrow’s dawn,
Lustily maketh cheer.
He mocks at the winds that caper along
From the far-off clamorous deep,—
But we—we love their lullaby song
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”

Old dog Fritz in slumber sound
Groans of the stony mart:
Tomorrow how proudly he’ll trot you round,
Hitched to our new milk-cart!
And you shall help me blanket the kine
And fold the gentle sheep,
And set the herring a-soak in brine,—
But now, little tulip, sleep!

norse lullaby

The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night,
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings:
“Sleep, little one, sleep;”
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
“Sleep, little one, sleep.”

On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing,
And only the vine can hear her sing:
“Sleep, little one, sleep;
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep.”

The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The tree may croon to the vine to-night,
But the little snow-bird at my breast
Likes the song I sing the best,—
Sleep, little one, sleep;
Weary thou art, a-next my heart
Sleep, little one, sleep.

armenian lullaby

If thou wilt shut thy drowsy eyes,
My mulberry one, my golden sun!
The rose shall sing thee lullabies,
My pretty cosset lambkin!
And thou shalt swing in an almond-tree,
With a flood of moonbeams rocking thee–
A silver boat in a golden sea,
My velvet love, my nestling dove,
My own pomegranate blossom!

The stork shall guard thee passing well
All night, my sweet! my dimple-feet!
And bring thee myrrh and asphodel,
My gentle rain-of-springtime!
And for thy slumbrous play shall twine
The diamond stars with an emerald vine
To trail in waves of ruby wine,
My myrtle bloom, my heart’s perfume,
My little chirping sparrow!

And when the morn wakes up to see
My apple bright, my soul’s delight!
The partridge shall come calling thee,
My jar of milk-and-honey!
Yes, thou shalt know what mystery lies
In the amethyst deep of the curtained skies,
If thou wilt fold thy onyx eyes,
You wakeful one, you naughty son,
You cooing little turtle!

nellie

His listening soul hears no echo of battle,
No pæan of triumph nor no welcome of fame;
But down the years comes a little one’s prattle,
And softly he murmurs her idolized name.
And it seems as if now at his heart she were clinging
As she clung in those dear, distant years to his knee;
He sees her fair face, and he hears her sweet singing—
And Nellie is coming from over the sea.

While patriots’ hopes stay the fulness of sorrow,
While our eyes are bedimmed and our voices are low,
He dreams of the daughter who comes with the morrow
Like an angel come back from the dear long ago.
Ah, what to him now is a nation’s emotion,
And what for our love or our grief careth he?
A swift-speeding ship is a-sail on the ocean,
And Nellie is coming from over the sea!

Daughter—my daughter! when Death stands before me
And beckons me off to that far misty shore,
Let me see you bending tenderly o’er me,
And feel your dear kiss on my cheek as of yore.
In the grace of your love all my anguish abating,
I’ll bear myself bravely and proudly as he,
And know the sweet peace that hallowed his waiting
When Nellie was coming from over the sea.

little croodlin doo

Ho, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin doo?
Ho, little lamb, is she jinkin’ on the lea?
Ho, bonnie fairy, bring my dearie back to me–
Got a lump o’ sugar an’ a posie for you,
Only bring me back my wee, wee, wee, wee, croodlin doo!

Why, here you are, my little croodlin doo!
Looked in the cradle, but didn’t find you there,
Looked for my wee, wee croodlin doo everywhere;
Been geting kind of lonesome all day without you;
Where you been, my teeny wee, wee, wee, wee croodlin doo?

Now you go balow, my little croodlin doo;
Now you go rockaby ever so far,–
Rockaby, rockaby, right up to the star
That’s winkin’ an’ a-blinkin’ an’ singin’ to you
As you go balow, my wee, wee, wee, wee croodlin doo!

balow, my bonnie

Hush, bonnie, dinna greit;
Moder will rocke her sweete,—
Balow, my boy!
When that his toile ben done,
Daddie will come anone,—
Hush thee, my lyttel one;
Balow, my boy!

Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce
Fayries will come to daunce,—
Balow, my boy!
Oft hath thy moder seene
Moonlight and mirkland queene
Daunce on thy slumbering een,—
Balow, my boy!

Then droned a bomblebee
Saftly this songe to thee:
“Balow, my boy!”
And a wee heather bell,
Pluckt from a fayry dell,
Chimed thee this rune hersell:
“Balow, my boy!”

Soe, bonnie, dinna greit;
Moder doth rock her sweete,—
Balow, my boy!
Give mee thy lyttel hand,
Moder will hold it and
Lead thee to balow land,—
Balow, my boy!

by the sea

Fair is the castle up on the hill–
Hushaby, sweet my own!
The night it is fair, and the waves they are still,
And the wind it is singing to you and to me
In this lowly house beside the sea–
Hushaby, sweet my own!

On yonder hill is store of wealth–
Hushaby, sweet my own!
And revellers drink to a little one’s health;
But you and I bide night and day
For the other love that has sailed away–
Hushaby, sweet my own!

See not, oh dear eyes, the forms that creep
Ghostlike, O my own!
Out of the mists of the murmuring deep;
Oh, see them not and make no cry
Till the angels of death have passed us by–
Hushaby, sweet my own!

Ah, little they reck of you and me–
Hushaby, sweet my own!
In our lonely home beside the sea;
They seek the castle up on the hill,
And there they will do their ghostly will–
Hushaby, O my own!

Here by the sea a mother croons
“Hushaby, sweet my own!”
In yonder castle a mother swoons
While angels go down to the misty deep,
Bearing a little one fast asleep–
Hushaby, sweet my own!

sometime

Last night, my darling, as you slept,
I thought I heard you sigh,
And to your little crib I crept,
And watched a space thereby;
Then, bending down, I kissed your brow —
For, oh! I love you so —
You are too young to know it now,
But sometime you shall know.

Some time, when, in a darkened place
Where others come to weep,
Your eyes shall see a weary face
Calm in eternal sleep;
The speechless lips, the wrinkled brow,
The patient smile may show —
You are too young to know it now,
But sometime you shall know.

Lullabies and Songs of Old

( 10 . 10 . 2020 )

1. sleep, little pigeon
2. long ago
3. nightfall in dordrecht
4. norse lullaby
5. armenian lullaby
6. nellie
7. little croodlin doo
8. balow my bonnie
9. by the sea
10. sometime

from poems by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

© Sara Garrard 2020

I wrote these on October 10, 2020.  so far they’re just available here on my website, but I might do something else.  let me know if you’d like downloads.  

lyrics:

1. sleep, little pigeon

Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,—
Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes;
Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging—
Swinging the nest where her little one lies.

Away out yonder I see a star,—
Silvery star with a twinkling song;
To the soft dew falling I hear it calling—
Calling and twinkling the night along.

In through the window a moonbeam comes,—
Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;
All silently creeping, it asks, “Is he sleeping—
Sleeping and dreaming while mother-bird sings?”

Up from the sea there floats the sob
Of waves that are breaking upon the shore,
As though they are groaning in anguish, and moaning—
Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more.

But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,—
Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes;
Am I not singing?—see, I am swinging—
Swinging the nest where my darling one lies.

2. long ago

I once knew all the birds that came
And nested in our orchard trees;
For every flower I had a name
My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees;
I knew where thrived in yonder glen
What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe
Oh, I was very learned then;
But that was very long ago!

I knew the spot upon the hill
Where checkerberries could be found,
I knew the rushes near the mill
Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound!
I knew the wood, the very tree
Where lived the poaching, saucy crow,
And all the woods and crows knew me
But that was very long ago.

And pining for the joys of youth,
I tread the old familiar spot
Only to learn this solemn truth:
I have forgotten, am forgot.
My heart would wish me back again,
Back with the friends I used to know;
For I was, oh! so happy then
But that was very long ago.

3. nightfall in dordrecht

The mill goes toiling slowly around
With steady and solemn creak,
And my little one hears in the kindly sound
The voice of the old mill speak.
While round and round those big white wings
Grimly and ghostlike creep,
My little one hears that the old mill sings
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”

The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn,
And, over his pot of beer,
The fisher, against the morrow’s dawn,
Lustily maketh cheer.
He mocks at the winds that caper along
From the far-off clamorous deep,—
But we—we love their lullaby song
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”

Old dog Fritz in slumber sound
Groans of the stony mart:
Tomorrow how proudly he’ll trot you round,
Hitched to our new milk-cart!
And you shall help me blanket the kine
And fold the gentle sheep,
And set the herring a-soak in brine,—
But now, little tulip, sleep!

norse lullaby

The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night,
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings:
“Sleep, little one, sleep;”
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
“Sleep, little one, sleep.”

On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing,
And only the vine can hear her sing:
“Sleep, little one, sleep;
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep.”

The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The tree may croon to the vine to-night,
But the little snow-bird at my breast
Likes the song I sing the best,—
Sleep, little one, sleep;
Weary thou art, a-next my heart
Sleep, little one, sleep.

armenian lullaby

If thou wilt shut thy drowsy eyes,
My mulberry one, my golden sun!
The rose shall sing thee lullabies,
My pretty cosset lambkin!
And thou shalt swing in an almond-tree,
With a flood of moonbeams rocking thee–
A silver boat in a golden sea,
My velvet love, my nestling dove,
My own pomegranate blossom!

The stork shall guard thee passing well
All night, my sweet! my dimple-feet!
And bring thee myrrh and asphodel,
My gentle rain-of-springtime!
And for thy slumbrous play shall twine
The diamond stars with an emerald vine
To trail in waves of ruby wine,
My myrtle bloom, my heart’s perfume,
My little chirping sparrow!

And when the morn wakes up to see
My apple bright, my soul’s delight!
The partridge shall come calling thee,
My jar of milk-and-honey!
Yes, thou shalt know what mystery lies
In the amethyst deep of the curtained skies,
If thou wilt fold thy onyx eyes,
You wakeful one, you naughty son,
You cooing little turtle!

nellie

His listening soul hears no echo of battle,
No pæan of triumph nor no welcome of fame;
But down the years comes a little one’s prattle,
And softly he murmurs her idolized name.
And it seems as if now at his heart she were clinging
As she clung in those dear, distant years to his knee;
He sees her fair face, and he hears her sweet singing—
And Nellie is coming from over the sea.

While patriots’ hopes stay the fulness of sorrow,
While our eyes are bedimmed and our voices are low,
He dreams of the daughter who comes with the morrow
Like an angel come back from the dear long ago.
Ah, what to him now is a nation’s emotion,
And what for our love or our grief careth he?
A swift-speeding ship is a-sail on the ocean,
And Nellie is coming from over the sea!

Daughter—my daughter! when Death stands before me
And beckons me off to that far misty shore,
Let me see you bending tenderly o’er me,
And feel your dear kiss on my cheek as of yore.
In the grace of your love all my anguish abating,
I’ll bear myself bravely and proudly as he,
And know the sweet peace that hallowed his waiting
When Nellie was coming from over the sea.

little croodlin doo

Ho, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin doo?
Ho, little lamb, is she jinkin’ on the lea?
Ho, bonnie fairy, bring my dearie back to me–
Got a lump o’ sugar an’ a posie for you,
Only bring me back my wee, wee, wee, wee, croodlin doo!

Why, here you are, my little croodlin doo!
Looked in the cradle, but didn’t find you there,
Looked for my wee, wee croodlin doo everywhere;
Been geting kind of lonesome all day without you;
Where you been, my teeny wee, wee, wee, wee croodlin doo?

Now you go balow, my little croodlin doo;
Now you go rockaby ever so far,–
Rockaby, rockaby, right up to the star
That’s winkin’ an’ a-blinkin’ an’ singin’ to you
As you go balow, my wee, wee, wee, wee croodlin doo!

balow, my bonnie

Hush, bonnie, dinna greit;
Moder will rocke her sweete,—
Balow, my boy!
When that his toile ben done,
Daddie will come anone,—
Hush thee, my lyttel one;
Balow, my boy!

Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce
Fayries will come to daunce,—
Balow, my boy!
Oft hath thy moder seene
Moonlight and mirkland queene
Daunce on thy slumbering een,—
Balow, my boy!

Then droned a bomblebee
Saftly this songe to thee:
“Balow, my boy!”
And a wee heather bell,
Pluckt from a fayry dell,
Chimed thee this rune hersell:
“Balow, my boy!”

Soe, bonnie, dinna greit;
Moder doth rock her sweete,—
Balow, my boy!
Give mee thy lyttel hand,
Moder will hold it and
Lead thee to balow land,—
Balow, my boy!

by the sea

Fair is the castle up on the hill–
Hushaby, sweet my own!
The night it is fair, and the waves they are still,
And the wind it is singing to you and to me
In this lowly house beside the sea–
Hushaby, sweet my own!

On yonder hill is store of wealth–
Hushaby, sweet my own!
And revellers drink to a little one’s health;
But you and I bide night and day
For the other love that has sailed away–
Hushaby, sweet my own!

See not, oh dear eyes, the forms that creep
Ghostlike, O my own!
Out of the mists of the murmuring deep;
Oh, see them not and make no cry
Till the angels of death have passed us by–
Hushaby, sweet my own!

Ah, little they reck of you and me–
Hushaby, sweet my own!
In our lonely home beside the sea;
They seek the castle up on the hill,
And there they will do their ghostly will–
Hushaby, O my own!

Here by the sea a mother croons
“Hushaby, sweet my own!”
In yonder castle a mother swoons
While angels go down to the misty deep,
Bearing a little one fast asleep–
Hushaby, sweet my own!

sometime

Last night, my darling, as you slept,
I thought I heard you sigh,
And to your little crib I crept,
And watched a space thereby;
Then, bending down, I kissed your brow —
For, oh! I love you so —
You are too young to know it now,
But sometime you shall know.

Some time, when, in a darkened place
Where others come to weep,
Your eyes shall see a weary face
Calm in eternal sleep;
The speechless lips, the wrinkled brow,
The patient smile may show —
You are too young to know it now,
But sometime you shall know.

Look backward, then, into the years,
And see me here to-night —
See, O my darling! how my tears
Are falling as I write;
And feel once more upon your brow
The kiss of long ago —
You are too young to know it now,
But sometime you shall know.