Alexandre Beetle listen online
I found a little beetle, so that beetle was his name,
And I called him Alexander and he answered just the same.
I put him in a matchbox, and I kept him all the day...
And Nanny let my beetle out
Yes, Nanny let my beetle out
She went and let my beetle out-
And beetle ran away.
She said she didn't mean it, and I never sauid she did,
She said she wanted matches, and she just took off the lid
She said that she was sorry, but it's difficult to catch
An excited sort of beetle you've mistaken for a match.
She said that she was sorry, and I really mustn't mind
As there's lots and lots of beetles which she's certain we could find
If we looked about the garden for the holes where beetles hid-
And we'd get another matchbox, and write BEETLE on the lid.
We went to all the places which a beetle might be near,
And we made the sort of noises which a beetle likes to hear,
And I saw a kind of something, and I gave a sort of shout:
"A beetle-house and Alexander Beetle coming out!"
It was Alexander Beetle I'm as certain as can be
And he had a sort of look as if he thought it might be ME,
And he had a kind of look as if he thought he ought to say:
"I'm very, very sorry that I tried to run away."
And Nanny's very sorry too, for you know what she did,
And she's writing ALEXANDER very blackly on the lid,
So Nan and me are friends, because it's difficult to catch
An excited Alexander you've mistaken for a match
Listen other Jackie Oates
Sleep on child, it is not quite day
For the moon has still to set
Oh the lark she will cry
And bring down the morning to where you lie
But the lark has not risen yet
Oh, the lark has not risen yet
Sleep on child while the birds rest on
And the cow she sleeps in her stall
Oh the meadow stands grey
In this dew-down moment before the day
And waits for the lark to call
And waits for the lark to call
Sleep on child while the fields are still;
They wait for your father's hand
But he will not go
And the sun will not shine and the cock will not crow
Til the lark cries over the land
Til the lark cries over the land
Sleep on child and heed no sound
For your father may rise in the dark
With his boots in his hand
Go drowsily down by the doorway to stand
Waiting for the lark
Waiting for the lark
Hush-a-bye baby thy cradle is green;
Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen;
And Betty's a lady who wears a gold ring,
And Johnny's a drummer and drums for the King.
Hush-a-bye baby way up on high;
Never mind baby, Mummy is nigh,
Swinging the baby all around,
Hush-a-bye baby, up hill and down.
Rock-a-bye baby thy cradle is green;
Finest in emerald I've ever seen,
The wind holds a secret, the rhythm to keep,
To carry my baby so gently to sleep.
To carry my baby so gently to sleep.
