Rock-a-bye baby, on the tree top
When you grow up, you'll work in a shop
When you get married, your wife will work, too
So that the rich will have nothing to do.
Hush-a-by baby, on the tree top
When you grow old, your paycheck will stop
After you've spent the little you save,
First to the poorhouse, then to the grave.
When you grow up, you'll work in a shop
When you get married, your wife will work, too
So that the rich will have nothing to do.
Hush-a-by baby, on the tree top
When you grow old, your paycheck will stop
After you've spent the little you save,
First to the poorhouse, then to the grave.
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