O, Hush Thee My Baby

Oh, hush thee, my baby,
Thy sire was a knight,
Thy mother a lady
Both lovely and bright;
The woods and the glens from
The towers which we see,
They are all belonging,
Dear baby, to thee.

O, fear not the bugle,
Though loudly it blows,
It calls but the warders
That guard thy repose;
Their bows would be bended,
Their blades would be red,
Ere the step of a foeman
Draws near to thy bed.

O, hush thee, my baby,
The time will soon come
When thy sleep shall be broken
By trumpet and drum;
Then hush thee, my darling,
Take rest while you may,
For strife comes with manhood
And waking with day.