Sung by: Mary (Mrs. Cecil) Ginger
Recorded in Pine Bluff, AR

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(Mrs. Ginger: "Well, this song is called 'The Little Princess,' and it was written by my crippled sister, who died at the age of 39. And we just thought she was just about the smartest and most intelligent and the best conversationalist, and she's . . ."

??: "She was a victim of infantile paralysis . . ."

Mrs. Ginger: "Yes, she had infantile paralysis when she was nine months old, and we just all loved her very dearly. And she wrote this song for my little girl when she was just a baby. And this is the song.")


I'm so tired of playing by myself,
Tired of laying my toys on the shelf.
Come with me, and we'll have lots of fun
Playing 'til the day is done.
My little princess, my little princess,
Won't you come and play with me?
My little princess, my little princess,
For I'm as lonely as I can be.
We'll play with Molly; she's my rag dolly,
And we will have a cup of tea.
My little princess, my little princess,
Come and play with me.

(Dr. Wolf: "Oh, that's pretty."

Mrs. Ginger: "These songs could be recorded--I mean, made a tape off of them--but uh, I don't want you to ever make a tape off of it. And uh, I think if it's anything ever to be had out of it I think that I'd hate for . . . just to give the song away. And she really did have a song stolen from her one time. She had that song, 'The Bluebird Is Over the White Cliffs of Dover,' and she wrote that song, only they changed it up a little bit. Well, she wrote . . . that was her tune. And she had that in there, 'The bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover,' and about Johnny in it, and she sent it in to a . . . Is this being recorded? Oh well, let's don't record this. Well, anyway, she sent it in to a guild, a writer's guild or something, and they stole her song. And uh, and she actually wrote 'Bluebirds Over the White Cliffs of Dover,' but she never got the credit for it. Well, this song . . ."

Dr. Wolf: "She ought to sue."

Mrs. Ginger: "Well, she couldn't. She had already sent the manuscript in, and they just got the song. But this song is for Darryl, our older little boy. And she wrote it for him. And the name of it is . . . And the name of this song is, 'Mr. Sleepyman.' And here's the way it goes.")


Mr. Sleepyman, take him by the hand
And lead him to the land of dreams,
Where the roses bloom, and their sweet perfume
Fills this very room, it seems.
Go to sleep, my dear; I'll be watching near
While the angels their watch keep.
Close your little eyes; drift to Paradise
On the wings of sleep.

All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted

The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection
Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas
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