Little brown baby-bird, lapped in your nest, 
 Wrapped in your nest, 
 Strapped in your nest, 
Your straight little cradle-board rocks you to rest; 
 Its hands are your nest; 
 Its bands are your nest; 
It swings from the down-bending branch of the oak; 
You watch the camp flame, and the curling grey smoke; 
But, oh, for your pretty black eyes sleep is best,-- 
Little brown baby of mine, go to rest. 

Little brown baby-bird swinging to sleep, 
 Winging to sleep, 
 Singing to sleep, 
Your wonder-black eyes that so wide open keep, 
 Shielding their sleep, 
 Unyielding to sleep, 
The heron is homing, the plover is still, 
The night-owl calls from his haunt on the hill, 
Afar the fox barks, afar the stars peep,-- 
Little brown baby of mine, go to sleep.