Rock-a-bye, baby, on a tree top.
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
When the bow breaks the cradle will fall.
Down will come baby, cradle and all.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
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When I was just a little one, these are the nursery rhymes and songs my daddy and mummy sang to me. Now that I have little ones of my own, I will sing the same to them.
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