Oh little pigeon

.

Sleep,little pigeon, and overlap your wings,

Minimal blue pigeon with velvet eyes;

Rest to the singing of mother-flying creature swinging,

Swinging the home where her little ones falsehoods.

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Away out there I see a star,

Slivery star with a twinkling tune;

To the delicate dew falling I hear it calling,

Calling and tinkling the night along.

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In through the window a moonbeam comes,

Minimal gold moonbeam with cloudy wings;

All quietly crawling, it asks:"Is he dozing,

Dozing and imagining while mother sings?"

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Up from the ocean there drift the cry

Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore,

Just as they were moaning in anguish, and groaning;

Moaning about the ship that will come no more.

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Be that as it may, rest, little pigeon, and overlay your wings,

Minimal blue pigeon with distressed eyes;

Am I not singing? It couldn't be any more obvious, I am swinging;

Swinging the home where my sweetheart untruths.