Beside an open door as I drew nigh,
I heard sweet Mary sing a lullaby.
She sang about the lambs at close of day,
And rocked her tiny King among the hay.

Across the air the silver sheepbells rang,
“The lambs are coming home,“ sweet Mary sang.
“Your star of gold, your star of gold is shining in the sky,
So sleep, my little King, go lullaby.”

As I walked down the road at set of sun,
The lambs were coming homewards one by one.
I heard a sheepbell softly calling them
Along the little road to Bethlehem.

Margaret Rose (d1958)

Beside an open door, as I drew nigh,
I heard sweet Mary sing a lullaby.
She sang about the lambs at close of day
And rocked her tiny King among the hay.

Across the air the silver sheep-bell rang,
‘The lambs are coming home,’ sweet Mary sang,
‘Your Star of Gold is shining in the sky,
So sleep, my little King, go lullaby.’

Margaret Rose (d1958)

Beside an open door, as I drew nigh,
I heard sweet Mary sing a lullaby.
She sang about the lambs at close of day
And rocked her tiny King among the hay.

Across the air the silver sheep-bell rang,
‘The lambs are coming home,’ sweet Mary sang,
‘Your Star of Gold is shining in the sky,
So sleep, my little King, go lullaby.’

Margaret Rose (d1958)
by permission of Boosey & Hawkes Music Publishers Ltd

Beside an open door, as I drew nigh,
I heard sweet Mary sing a lullaby.
She sang about the lambs at close of day
And rocked her tiny King among the hay.

Across the air the silver sheep-bell rang,
‘The lambs are coming home,’ sweet Mary sang,
‘Your Star of Gold is shining in the sky,
So sleep, my little King, go lullaby.’

Margaret Rose (d1958)

Beside an open door, as I drew nigh,
I heard sweet Mary sing a lullaby.
She sang about the lambs at close of day
And rocked her tiny King among the hay.

Across the air the silver sheep-bell rang,
‘The lambs are coming home,’ sweet Mary sang,
‘Your Star of Gold is shining in the sky,
So sleep, my little King, go lullaby.’

Margaret Rose (d1958)

Beside an open door, as I drew nigh,
I heard sweet Mary sing a lullaby.
She sang about the lambs at close of day
And rocked her tiny King among the hay.

Across the air the silver sheep-bell rang,
‘The lambs are coming home,’ sweet Mary sang,
‘Your Star of Gold is shining in the sky,
So sleep, my little King, go lullaby.’

Margaret Rose (d1958)