Bye, my little wee one, bye;
There'll be goodly store of sweetings for a dainty little elf;
Bye, my little wee one, bye.
The snow may be a-flying o'er the meadow and the hill,
The ice has checked the chatter of the little laughing rill,
But in your cosey cradle you are warm and happy still;
So bye, my little wee one, bye.
Why, the Bob White thinks the snowflake is a brother to his song;
Bye, my little wee one, bye;
And the chimney sings the sweeter when the wind is blowing strong;