At six o’clock in the evening,
    The time for lullabies,
My son lay on my mother’s lap
    With sleepy, sleepy eyes!
(O drowsy, little manny boy!
    With sleepy, sleepy eyes!)

I heard her sing, and rock him,
    And the creak of the swaying chair,
And the old dear cadence of the words
    Came softly down the stair.

And all the years had vanished,
    All folly, greed, and stain—
The old, old song, the creaking chair,
    The dearest arms again!
(O lucky, little manny boy,
    To feel those arms again!)