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