Oh, slumber, my darling, thy sire is a knight;
Thy mother a lady so lovely and bright.
The hills and the dales and the towers which you see,
They all shall belong, my dear baby, to thee.
Oh, slumber, my darling, thy sire is a knight;
Thy mother a lady so lovely and bright.
The hills and the dales and the towers which you see,
They all shall belong, my dear baby, to thee.
“Sire” here means: father.