Ann sings in the morning,
With waking birds she sings
A song of the fairy butterflies,
Of flower and kindly things:
And when she sings it seems to me
No voice on earth could lovelier be 
When sweet Ann sings.

Ann sings to the children 
In goldne candle light
God bless you all, my little lambs
And guard you through the night.
I think there's nothing 'neath the skies
So sweet as the old-time lullabies
When sweet Ann sings.

And sometimes in the gloaming
When stars are lit above,
She'll softly come and sing to me 
An old, old, song of love.
Her sweet voice falling soft and low
Beguiles my heart at even-glow,
She makes my Heav'n, I love her so,
When sweet an sings,
when sweet Ann sings.