I Hushaby baby your sire is a knight your mother a lady both lovely and bright the woods and the valleys around that you see They all are belonging sweet baby to thee II I fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows It calls but thy warders to guard thy repose Their bows would be bended Their blades would be read Ere the step of a foemam would draw near thy bed III Hushaby baby your sire is a knight you mother a lady, both lovelyMichelle DunneAnaithnid