Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye Hush-a-bye my baby, no need to be crying You can burn the midnight oil with me as long as you will Stare out at the moon upon the windowsill and dream
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye Hush-a-bye my baby, no need to be crying There's dew drops on the windowsill, and gumdrops in your head You're slipping into dreamland, you're nodding your head So dream
Dream of West Virginia, or of the British Isles 'Cause when you are dreaming, you see for miles and miles When you are much older, remember when we sat At midnight on the windowsill, and had this little chat And dream
Come on and dream Come on and dream And dream And dream Come on and dream