But the name of the secret is Love! For I feel it is Love, For I'm sure it is nothing but Love! Say, whose is the skill that paints valley and hill, That flecks the green meadow with sunshine and Till the little lambs leap with delight? "Tis a secret untold to hearts cruel and cold, Though 'tis sung, by the angels above, In notes that ring clear for the ears that can hear And the name of the secret is Love! For I think it is Love, For I feel it is Love, For I'm sure it is nothing but Love! LEWIS CARRoll. The Inglenook Mother's Song My heart is like a fountain true That flows and flows with love to you. So chirps my pretty babe to me. And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby. There's not a rose where'er I seek, As comely as my baby's cheek. The Inglenook There's not a comb of honey-bee, There's not a star that shines on high, And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby. No silk was ever spun so fine As is the hair of baby mine My baby smells more sweet to me A little fish swims in the well, The Queen has sceptre, crown and ball, More fair your skin, as white as milk. Ten thousand parks where deer run, Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea, The Inglenook The Bonniest Bairn in a' the Warl' The bonniest bairn in a' the warl' Its een are just bonnie wee wander'd stars, An' ilk ane maun see't, an' a' maun declare't The daintiest bairn, The rosiest, cosiest, cantiest bairn, The dearest, queerest, Rarest, fairest, Bonniest bairn in a' the warl'. The bonniest bairn in a' the warl' It's doon in yon howe, it's owre yon knowe- It's up an' ayont in yon castle brent, The heir o' the belted earl; The Inglenook It's sookin' its thoomb in yon gipsy tent The cleverest bairn, The daintiest bairn, The rosiest, cosiest, cantiest bairn, Rarest, fairest, Bonniest bairn in a' the warl'. ROBERT FORD. Cuddle Doon The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht, They never heed a word I speak; But aye I hap them up, an' cry, 66 "O, bairnies, cuddle doon." Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid- I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks, They stop awee the soun'; Then draw the blankets up and cry, But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab The mischief's in that Tam for tricks, But aye I hap them up an' cry, At length they hear their father's fit, "The bairnies, John, are in their beds, An' lang since cuddled doon." An' just afore we bed oorsel's, We look at oor wee lambs; Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck, I lift wee Jamie up the bed, I whisper, till my heart fills up, The Inglenook |