Sweet babe! a golden cradle holds thee, 
And soft the snow-white fleece enfolds thee; 
In airy bower I'll watch thy sleeping,
Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping. 
  Shuheen sho, lulo lo!

Rest, thee, babe! for soon thy slumbers 
Shall flee at the magic Koelshie's numbers; 
In airy bower I'll watch thy sleeping,
Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping. 
  Shuheen sho, lulo lo!