And within my cradle lying,
Angels came about me flying
And they kissed me on my brow.
Sleep, then, little baby, sleep:
Sleep, nor cry again to-night,
Lest the angels take to flight
So as not to see thee weep.
"The Moor" is in this instance a benignant kind of bogey, not far removed from harmless "wee Willie Winkie" who runs upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown:
Tapping at the window,