Rock-a-bye, baby, Daddy's a Whig;
When he comes home, hard cider he'll swig.
When he has swug, he'll fall in a stew;
And down will come Tyler and Tippecanoe.
Rock-a-bye, baby, when you awake,
You will discover Tip is a fake.
Far from the battle, war cry, and drum,
He sits in his cabin a-drinking bad rum.
Rock-a-bye, baby, never you cry;
You need not fear ol' Tip and his Ty.
What they would ruin, Van Buren will fix:
Van's a magician; they are but tricks.