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When the wind blows the cradle will rock,
When the wind ceaſes the cradle will fall,
Down comes baby and cradle and all,
Another.
B EE baw buniing,
Daddy's gone a huntiog,
To get a little lamb's ſkin,
To-lap his little baby in.
Another.
YZ O my baby,
When I was a lady,
O then my poor baby didu't cry;
But my baby is weeping,
For want of good keeping,