Little John
Little boy John is sleepy,
Little boy John can rest,
Now that the sun all its labor has done,
And gone to its bed in the west.
Rattle goes into the closet,
Letter-blocks go there too;
Wait till the morn for the cow in the corn,
And the horn of the Little Boy Blue.
Into the crib with Johnny,
As soon as his prayers are said;
Tuck him all in from the toes to the chin,
Alone in his soft, downy bed.
Then in the morning early,
Soon as the sun shall rise,
Little boy John, with the coming of dawn,
Will open his pretty blue eyes.
Butterflies in the garden,
Roses, and lilies fair,
Birds in the trees, and the big bumble-bees,
Shall welcome our little one there.
Yet if the day be rainy,
Dreary and dark the sky,
Still there is fun for our own little one,
In the nursery cozy and dry.
Beat a big drum all morning,
Build a card-house till noon,
Play after that with the dog and the cat,
Will keep little Johnny in tune.
Little boy John is sleepy,
Winks with his two little eyes,
Nods with his head—so we put him to bed,
And under the cover he lies.