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That had no stone
I gave my love a chicken
That had no bone
I gave my love a story
That had no end
I gave my love a baby
With no crying.
How can there be a cherry
That has no stone?
And how can there be a chicken
That has no bone?
How can there be a story
That has no end?
And how can there be a baby
With no crying?
A cherry when it's blooming
It has no stone
A chicken when it's piping
It has no bone
The story that I love you
It has no end
A baby when it's sleeping
It's no crying.
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
Every fiddler he had a fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he;
Oh there's none so rare, as can compare,
With King Cole and his fiddlers three.
Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,
The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.
But where is the boy, who looks after the sheep?
He's under a haystack, he's fast asleep.
Will you wake him? No, not I,
For if I do, he's sure to cry.
My little tiny child
By-by, lullay, lullay
My little tiny child
By-by, lullay, lullay
How may we do
For to preserve this day?
Of whom we do sing
By-by, lullay, lullay
In his raging
Charged he hath this day
In his own sight
All children young to slay
Poor child for thee
And ever mourn and say
Nor say nor sing
By-by, lullay, lullay
My little tiny child
By-by, lullay, lullay
My little tiny child
By-by, lullay, lu
By-by, lullay, lu
By-by, lullay, lu
Şirin şirin yat ay bala
Boya başa çat ay bala
Səndə bir gün öz səsini
El səsinə qat ay bala
Sənə deyir lay-lay...
Hər ötən quş hər akan çay
Bu gözəl şən anamız vətən
Lay-Lay...
Hər şöhrətim şanım sənsən
Candan ayrı canım sənsən
Nə təmizdir qül nəfəsin
Sənə telli bir çəmansən
Sənə deyir lay-lay
Hər ötən quş, hər akan çay
Bu gözəl şən anamız vətən
Lay-Lay...
Yat ay quzum şirin şirin
Həyat sənin dövran sənin
Qayğısıyla boyatırsan
Qucağında bu vətənin
Sənə deyir lay-lay
Hər ötən quş, hər akan çay
Bu gözəl şən anamız vətən
Lay-Lay...