Ann sings in the morning,
With walking birds she sings
A song of fairy butterflies,
Of flowers and kindly things:
And when she sings it seems to me
No voice on earth could lovelier be
When sweet Ann sings.

Ann sings to the children
In golden candlelight
God bless you all, my little lambs
And guard you through the night.
I think there's nothing 'neath the skies
So sweet as the old-time lullabies
When sweet Ann sings.

And sometimes in the gloaming
When stars are lit above,
She'll softly come and sing to me
An old, old song of love.
Her sweet voice falling soft and low
Beguiles my heart at evenglow,
She makes my Heav'n, I love her so,
When sweet Ann sings.