(Anonymous)
BRITISH
The sun has gone from the shining skies,
The dandelions have closed their eyes,
The stars are lighting their lamps to see
If babes and squirrels and birds and bees
Are sound asleep as they should be.
The squirrel keeps wam in his furs of gray,
'Neath feathers, birds are tucked away,
In yellow jackets, the bees sleep tight
And cuddle close through the chilly night,
My baby's snug in her own of white.
The squirrel nests in a big oak tree,
He finds a hole in the trink, you see,
The robin's home is a nest overhead,
The bees, they nest in a hive instead,
My baby's nest is her little bed.
BRITISH
The sun has gone from the shining skies,
The dandelions have closed their eyes,
The stars are lighting their lamps to see
If babes and squirrels and birds and bees
Are sound asleep as they should be.
The squirrel keeps wam in his furs of gray,
'Neath feathers, birds are tucked away,
In yellow jackets, the bees sleep tight
And cuddle close through the chilly night,
My baby's snug in her own of white.
The squirrel nests in a big oak tree,
He finds a hole in the trink, you see,
The robin's home is a nest overhead,
The bees, they nest in a hive instead,
My baby's nest is her little bed.