The moon is sailing low,
where southern breezes blow,
It's twilight 'round the cabin door;
When silv'ry stars appear,
I hear my mammy dear,
Asinging as in days of yore,
And it seems again I'm on her knee,
And she's crooning this sweet melody.
"Oh, rockabye, my honey,
while close to Mammy's breast;
The fields of snowy white
are gleaming thro' the night,
(So close your eyes, my dusky little Pickaniny).
Sweet magnolias swaying,
The birds have gone to rest;
Just drift and dream on Slumber stream,
While Mammy sings the Pickaniny Blues."
The night birds in the trees,
are singing melodies,
But none like Mammy's lullaby;
While on her loving breast,
he slowly sinks to rest,
The angels watching from on high,
They were guarding the babe on her knee,
Lulled to sleep by this sweet melody.