M. Konopnicka - Kołysz mi się, kołysz.docx

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Kołysz mi się, kołysz…                                                                                                                                                                                     „Kołysz mi się, kołysz,                                                                                                                                             Kołysko lipowa!...”                                                                                                                                        Niechaj cię, Jasieńku,                                                                                                                           Pan Jezus zachowa!                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Zachowa cię roczek,,                                                                                                                                                                                  Zachowa cię drugi…                                                                                                                                              A potem cię wezmą                                                                                                                                      Do dworskiej posługi.                                                                                                                                                                                              „Kołysz mi się, kołysz,                                                                                                                                                                                       Kołysko pleciona!...”                                                                                                                            Póki nie wysnuję                                                                                                                                                                                  Niteczki z wrzeciona…                                                                                                                                                                    Wysnuję ją długą                                                                                                                                       Jak te pańskie pola,                                                                                                                                        A taką ci szarą                                                                                                                                     Jako chłopska dala!                                                                                                                        „Kołysz mi się, kołysz,                                                                                                                               Kołyseczko z łyka!...’                                                                                                                                    Na gościńcu tuman,                                                                                                                                                                                                  Z wiatrem gra muzyka…                                                                                                                                                Oj,  grają ci, grają                                                                                                                                                      Złociste trębacze…                                                                                                                               Jasieńko się żegna,                                                                                                                                                                 Matka w progu płacze!                                                                                                                                                                                                       „Kołysz mi się, kołysz,                                                                                                                                   Kołyseczko biała!...”                                                                                                                                         A ja sobie pójdę,                                                                                                                                                              Gdzie ja będę chciała…                                                                                                                               Nie pójdę daleko                                                                                                                                   Od dzieciątka mego,                                                                                                                                     Jeno na on cmentarz                                                                                                                            Do dołu czarnego!                                                                                                                            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