Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye,
Hush-a bye, my baby; no need to be crying.
You can burn the midnight oil with me, as long as you will.
Stare out at the moon upon the window-sill and dream
Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye,
Hush-a bye, my baby; no need to be crying.
There's dew drops on the window-sill, gumdrops in your head.
Slipping into dream land; you're nodding your head, so dream
Dream of West Vir-ginia, or of the British Isles.
'Cos when you are dreaming, you see for miles and miles.
When you are much older, re-member when we sat.
At midnight on the window-sill and had this little chat
And dream
Come on and dream,
Come on and dream.
And dream
And dream
Come on and dream.