Lullaby in Ragtime
SYLVIA FINE
Won't you play the music so the cradle can rock,
To a lullaby in ragtime.
Sleepy hands are creeping to the end of the clock,
Play a lullaby in ragtime.
You can tell the sandman is on his way,
By the way,
That they play,
As still, as the trill, of a thrush, in a twilight high.
So you can hear the
Rhythm of the ripples on the side of the boat,
As you sail away to dreamland.
High above the moon you hear a silvery note,
As the sandman takes your hand.
So rock-a-by my baby,
Don't you cry my baby,
Sleepy-time is nigh.
Won't you rock me to a ragtime lullaby,
So rock-a-by my baby,
Don't you cry my baby,
Sleepy-time is nigh.
Won't you rock me to a ragtime lullaby,
