The moon swings low in the sky above,
And the twinkling stars shine bright,
And a mother sings to her baby love
Those wonderful songs of night;
Those wonderful songs of sugar plum trees,
And the fields where the fairies play,
Of cockle-shell boats on golden seas
That never are seen by day.
It is by-low time and she sweetly hums
Those wonderful songs of night;
Of the blare of trumpets and sound of drums
When the little tin soldiers fight;
She sings of a comical candy dog
And the gingerbread man who stands
By the side of a blinking cooky frog,
Without any arms or hands.
And the moonbeams dance on the parlor floor,
And a ship sets out to sea,
And a baby sails for the golden shore
In search of the sugar plum tree;
She's off to the cave of the Teddy Bear,
And the haunts of the fairies kind,
Where never an ache or a pain or care
Shall trouble her baby mind.
Oh, sweet is the smile on the baby's face
As she softly sinks to rest,
For where in the world is so fine a place
To sleep, as a mother's breast?
And if ever a song can reach the skies,
The angels must find delight
In hearing a mother's lullabies --
Those wonderful songs of night.
