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hush thee, my
babie, thy sire was a knight,
Thy mother a lady, both
lovely and bright;
The woods and the glens, from the
towers which we see,
They all are belonging, dear
babie, to thee.
O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo,
O
ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo.
O fear not the
bugle, though loudly it blows,
It calls but the
warders that guard thy repose;
Their bows would be
bended, their blades would be red,
Ere the step of a
foeman drew near to thy bed.
O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul
gu lo,
O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo.
O hush
thee, my babie, the time soon will come
When thy
sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum;
Then hush
thee, my darling, take rest while you may,
For strife
comes with manhood, and waking with day.
O ho ro, i
ri ri, cadul gu lo,
O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo.
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