AN IRISH LULLABY

Sleep, sleep my gentle babe
my song shall close your eyes.
Sleep, sleep my sweet young babe,
hear my lullaby.

Helpless now you cling to me
and dream of things to come.
I shall teach you first to walk
then you shall learn to run.

You’ll grow up and leave me then
but remember our time here
And someday have your own sweet child
whom you shall hold so dear

But I shall be quite old by then
and who shall care for me?
Will you hold me as I hold you
when I no longer see?

The father becomes the son in time
and the son becomes the father.
I care for you, you care for me
and neither is a bother.

Sleep, sleep my little babe
within these arms that hold.
The way of life is the way of time,
God, I hate growing old.

You will speak my name some day
and in your breast you’ll know,
It’s in the loving tone you use
that touches my heart so

And I shall say, my sweet young lad,
please wait a step for me
But you, yet have a life to live
and I can’t but agree.

Come a dark day you’ll go to war
and I shall loose my heart
But I shall pray every day
while we are apart,

That God keep you safe and true
and bring you back to me,
It’s in the blood we share my son
through such adversity.

Sleep, sleep my little babe
within these arms that hold.
Sleep, sleep my gentle babe
and let our lives unfold.

And on the day I pass away
my thoughts shall be of you
And then I hope and fondly pray
you’ll think of my heart too.

One autumn day, your hair so gray
will reach the cottage floor
And your son shall heed your call
returning from his war.

At your side, he’ll sooth your ills
and hold you tenderly
And I, my son, shall greet you there
beyond the holy sea.

And we shall be together then,
my lovely son and I,
No more to suffer life’s cruel ways
and never more to die.

Your eyes, your nose, your twinkle toes,
so lovely to behold.
Now your asleep….., I’m out of time,
God….I hate growing old.

~Robert E Browne~

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