A sunbeam comes a-creeping

Into my dear one’s nest,

And sings to our babe a-sleeping,

The song that I love the best:

“’Tis little Luddy-Dud in the morning—

’Tis little Luddy-Dud at night;

And all day long

’Tis the same sweet song

Of that waddling, toddling, coddling little mite, Luddy-Dud.”

The bird to the tossing clover,

The bee to the swaying bud,

Keep singing that sweet song over

Of wee little Luddy-Dud.

“’Tis little Luddy-Dud in the morning—

’Tis little Luddy-Dud at night;

And all day long

’Tis the same dear song

Of that growing, crowing, knowing little sprite, Luddy-Dud!”

Luddy-Dud’s cradle is swinging

Where softly the night winds blow,

And Luddy-Dud’s mother is singing

A song that is sweet and low:

“’Tis little Luddy-Dud in the morning—

’Tis little Luddy-Dud at night;

And all day long

’Tis the same sweet song

Of my nearest and my dearest heart’s delight, Luddy-Dud!”