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Baby, baby, bless her; How shall mammy dress her?

The summer cloud Is not too proud To find soft wool to dress her.

The bluebell Is a true bell, And will find the blue to dress her.

The cherry-tree Is a merry tree, And will find the pink to dress her.

The lily bright Will find the white, The beautiful white to dress her.

The leaves in the wood Are sweet and good, And will find the green to dress her.

The honeysuckle, With buds for a buckle, Will make a girdle to dress her.

The heavens hold Both silver and gold In the stars, and they will dress her.