The Cunnin’ Little Thing
When baby wakes of mornings,Then it’s wake, ye people all!For another dayOf song and playHas come at our darling’s call!And, till she gets her dinner,She makes the welkin ring,And she won’t keep still till she’s had her fill—The cunnin’ little thing!
When baby goes a-walking,Oh, how her paddies fly!For that’s the wayThe babies sayTo other folk “by-by”;The trees bend down to kiss her,And the birds in rapture sing,As there she stands and waves her hands—The cunnin’ little thing!
When baby goes a-rockingIn her bed at close of day,At hide-and-seekOn her dainty cheekThe dreams and the dimples play;Then it’s sleep in the tender kissesThe guardian angels bringFrom the Far Above to my sweetest love—You cunnin’ little thing!