  Little Two-shoes, Little Toddle-toes, Like a little pretty pinky winky rose, Come to me, now, And we'll see, now, How the rocking-chair away to By-land goes. With a heigh ho, And a by-low, And a swinging, swinging softly to and fro; With a sleepy croon, All about the moon, How she puts the sleepy stars to beddy oh! With a hey-day, And a rock-away, And a patting down the hands that want to play; With a swing swong In the drowsy song, That forgets the drowsy words it has to say. Now the lids close, Just when no one knows, And the dimpled flush grows deeper, rose on rose. Little Two-shoes, Little Toddle-toes, With the rocking-chair away to By-land goes. |
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