Father Rocks the Child in the Cradle
by Carole Mertz

He began to sing some old cowboy song
The rhythm lazy like a horse limping home

In heat of the day, in languid tone–
Where travel now? he’d ask the roan

I’m homeward bound, came the soft reply
My tired feet thirst for my turf. Harbor
And hay will soon be nigh


La-tome-de-lay, la-tome de-ligh

And where will you travel, singing your tune?
I’d take to the road that leads to the moon

And when you travel, what would you do?
I’d thread a new song through celestial seas
And swell it over to you

La-tome-de-lay, la-tome de-ligh



 


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