Cuddle Doon

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' muckle fash an' din.
'Oh, try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues;
Your faither's comin' in."
They never heed a word I speak.
I try to gie a froon;
But aye I hap them up, an' cry,
"Oh bairnies, cuddle doon!"

Wee Jaimie wi' the curly heid--
He aye sleeps next the wa'--
Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece"--
The rascal starts them a'.
I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks--
They stop awee the soun'--
Then draw the blankets up, an' cry,
"Noo, Weanies, cuddle doon!"

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot, frae 'neath the claes,
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at ance:
He's kittlin' wi' his taes."
The mischief's in that Tam for tricks;
He'd bother half the toon.
But aye I hap them up, an cry,
"Oh bairnies, cuddle doon!"

At length they hear their father's fit;
An', as he steeks the door,
They turn their faces to the wa',
While Tam pretends to snore.
"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks,
As he pits aff his shoon.
"The bairnies, John, are in their beds.
An' lang since cuddled doon."

An' just afore we bed oorsels,
We look at oor wee lambs
Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck,
An' Rab, his airm 'round Tam's.
I lift wee Jaimie up the bed
An' as I staik each croon,
I whisper, till my heart fills up,
"Oh bairnies, cuddle doon!"

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' mirth that's dear to me.
But soon the big warl's calk an' care
Will quaten doon their glee.
Yet, come what will to ilka ane,
May He who rules aboon
Aye whisper, through their pows be bald,
"Oh bairnies, cuddle doon!"

Alexander Anderson
(1845-1909)