Recycled Nursery Rhymes and Songs for Secular Babies

Here are a few things I sing to Dorian (who is now six months old) along with more conventional fare like "Guten Abend, gute' Nacht" (the Brahms Lullaby), "You Are My Sunshine", and "Veni, veni Emmanuel":

Air: Three Blind Mice
Dor-i-an, Dor-i-an
See who I am, see who I am,
I am the Drool- and the Burpinator,
I am the Fart- and the Poopinator,
I am the Squeal- and the Howlinator,
I'll be baaaack, I'll be baaaack.

Air: Puttin' on the Ritz
Who's that baby, what is he doin'
He's my grandson, he is a-chewin'
Dor-i-an . . . Chewin' on his bib.

Who's that baby, where is he goin'
I don't know and there is no knowin'
Dor-i-an . . . Chewin' on his bib.

Air: Jesus Loves Me
Grandpa loves me, this I know,
'Cause his caring tells me so,
Little me with him belongs,
Till I'm bold and brave and strong.

Yes, Grandpa loves me (3x)
His caring tells me so.

(This gets changed to Grandma or Mommy or even Grownups on occasion.)

Air: Deck the Halls
Fast away the bottle's draining,
  Do-do-do-do-do, do-do-ri-an.
On the bib the drips are raining,
  Do-do-do-do-do, do-do-ri-an.
Soon the back we will be pounding,
  Do-do-do, do-do-do, Do-ri-an.
And the burps will be resounding,
  Do-do-do-do-do, do-do-ri-an.

Air: Tell Me Why
Tell me why the stars do shine,
Tell me why the ivy twines,
Tell me why the sky's so blue,
Tell me, oh tell me, just why I love you.

Nuclear fusion makes stars to shine,
Tropism makes the ivy twine,
Scattering makes the sky so blue,
Gonadal hormones are why I love you.

(This is the only one I didn't make up myself.)


Jessica Allan said...

I so often wrote my own lullabyes, sort of like busting rhymes, except not. They all ended with "please sleep until at least 7 in the morning", as I recall.

That didn't give me a lot of variance in the way of meter or foot, but it did adequately express my feelings at that point.

Alex Cruise said...

I'm fond of the Tom Lehrer classic:

Scintillate, scintillate, asteroid minific
Fain I would fathom thy nature specific
Loftily poised in the ether capacious,
You seem to resemble a gem carbonacious...

Jill said...

I remember reading an anecdote ages ago of a mother hearing her partner singing to their colicky baby, to the tune of "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow". As she got closer, she was able to make out the words he was singing:

Someday I hope you have children,
Someday I hope you have children..