Poems of Childhood/Balow, my Bonnie

by Eugene Field

 

BALOW, MY BONNIE

HUSH, bonnie, dinna greit;⁠
Moder will rocke her sweete,—
⁠Balow, my boy!
When that his toile ben done,
Daddie will come anone,—
Hush thee, my lyttel one;
⁠Balow, my boy!

Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce
Fayries will come to daunce,—
⁠Balow, my boy!
Oft hath thy moder seene
Moonlight and mirkland queene
Daunce on thy slumbering een,—
⁠Balow, my boy!

Then droned a bomblebee
Saftly this songe to thee:
⁠"Balow, my boy!"
And a wee heather bell,
Pluckt from a fayry dell,
Chimed thee this rune hersell:
⁠"Balow, my boy!"

Soe, bonnie, dinna greit;
Moder doth rock her sweete,—
⁠Balow, my boy!
Give mee thy lyttel hand,
Moder will hold it and
Lead thee to balow land,—
⁠Balow, my boy!