Amid the roses Mary sits and rocks her Jesus-Child.
While amid the treetops sighs the breeze so warm and mild.
And soft and sweetly sings a bird upon the bough.
Ah, Baby, dear one.
Slumber now.
Happy is Thy laughter; holy is Thy silent rest.
Lay Thy head in slumber fondly on Thy mother's breast.
Ah, Baby, dear one.
Slumber now.