The sheep's in the meadows, the cow's in the corn.
Now is the time for a child to be born.
He'll cry for the moon and he'll laugh at the sun
and if he's a boy he will carry a gun.
Chorus: Sang the crow on the cradle.
If it should be that our baby's a girl
never you mind if her hair doesn't curl.
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes
and a bomber above her, wherever she goes.
Rockabye baby, the dark and the light
somebody's baby is born for a fight.
Rockabye baby, the white and the black
somebody's babs is not coming back.
Your mammy and pappy they'll scrape and they'll save,
build you a coffin and dig you a grave.
Hushabye little one and why do you weep?
We've got a toy that will put you to sleep.
„Bring me a gun and I'll shoot that bird dead“,
that's whats your mammy and pappy once said.
Oh crow on the cradle now what shall I do?
This is a thing that I leave up to you.