Hush-a-bye,
don’t you cry?
Go to sleepy, little baby...
Go to sleepy, little baby...

When you wake --
you shall have
all the pretty little horsies,
all the pretty little horsies...

Blacks and bays,
and dapples and greys;
all the pretty little horsies...

Way down yonder,
in the meadow, –
lies a poor, little lamby.

Bees and butterflies
flitting round his eyes;
poor little thing is crying:
“Mammy...”

Go to sleep,
don’t you cry?
Rest your head upon the clover.
Rest your head upon the clover.

In your dreams --
you shall ride,
while your mammy’s watching over...

Blacks and bays,
and dapples and greys --
all the pretty little horsies...

All the pretty little horsies.
All the pretty little horsies.
All the pretty little horsies.