The little French girl turns her thoughts to the hot milk and chocolate that are being prepared, and of which she no doubt expects to have a share:—
Fais dodo, Colin, mon p'tit frère,
Fais dodo, t'auras du lolo.
Le papa est en haut, qui fait le lolo,
Le maman est en bas, qui fait le colo;
Fais dodo, Colin, mon p'tit frère
Fais dodo.
In enumerating the rewards for infantine virtue—which is sleep—I must not forget the celebrated hare's skin to be presented to Baby Bunting, and the "little fishy" that the English father, set to be nurse ad interim, promises his "babby" when the ship comes in; nor should I pass over the hopes raised in an inedited cradle song of French Flanders, which opens, like the Tuscan lullaby, with a short narration:
Un jour un' pauv' dentillière