Little old baby, pretty old baby,
If you could see just how queer you look,—
Arms and legs in a knot together,
Face twisted up in a terrible crook,—
How you would straighten out every feature,
Masculine vanity all aflame!
Fie! what a noise from a little wee creature!
Did they abuse him! and was it a shame!
Little old baby, pretty old baby,
Curls himself over and goes to sleep.
Ah! such is life, my little old baby,
Sleep and forget it, or wake and weep!
[BABY'S JOURNEY.]
Hoppety hoppety ho!
Where shall the baby go?
Over dale and down,
To Limerick town,
And there shall the baby go.
Hoppety hoppety ho!
How shall the baby go?
In a coach-and-seven,
With grooms eleven,
And so shall the baby go.
Hoppety hoppety ho!
When shall the baby go?
In the afternoon,
By the light of the moon,
And then shall the baby go.
Hoppety hoppety ho!
Why shall the baby go?
To dance a new jig,
And to buy a new wig,
And that's why the baby shall go.