Hush now, my wee one, the day’s at its end,
The sun’s gone to sleep ‘round the far river bend.
The heather is sighin’ on soft hills of gold,
And stories grow quiet the ancients once told.
The red deer have wandered to glens far and wide,
Their shadows like whispers that dance and then hide.
They roam through the bracken so silent and deep,
Guarding your dreams as you drift into sleep.
The wind through the pine sings a song old and low,
A cradle of peace in the valley below.
The burn’s silver waters keep time with the tune,
As night paints the skies with the light of the moon.
Sleep now, my darlin’, the stars will not fade,
They’ll shimmer like lanterns the angels have made.
The thistle may prick and the gorse may grow wild,
But nothing can harm my dear, slumbering child.
There’s moss on the stone and green grass on the hill,
The lambs lie beside you, the earth soft and still.
A blanket of mist gathers low on the moor,
While dreams knock so gently upon your heart’s door.
Rest, little bairn, in the fold of the glen,
Where faeries once danced with the bold Highland men.
The red deer will stand at the edge of your sleep,
And watch o’er your soul where the shadows grow deep.
So hush now, my wee one, no need for a tear,
The Highlands are singing, and you’ve naught to fear.
Sleep ’til the morning comes over the hill,
And I’ll be beside you, and all will be still.