I had resisted this thread as I don't have any younguns of my own, but fate has intervened. (No, I'm not having a baby at 60.)

For several days I've been staying with some young friends who have a 3-year-old son and a 2 1/2-month old daughter. The baby is suffering terribly from colic and reflux and screams more than she doesn't, poor thing. I've been either bouncing the baby and singing to her, or playing with and singing to the little boy, while the harried mom tries to get things done around the house.

The little fella was shuffling through lyrics I had printed out and turned up a drawing he gave me last summer. He said, "here's that song I drew for you, Mayo." "Right," I said, "do you happen to remember the words?"

"Sure," he said, "It's about Emmy (my little dog) and me," and began:

I didn't know what happened
I didn't know what happened
I didn't know what happened
What happened on the mountain.

Emmy didn't know what happened
On top of the mountain
On top of the mountain
When peoples wuz frowed off.

It was me!
It was me!
It was me!
I am Super Stephen!

At first I couldn't place the tune, then realized it is an unknown melody I have used for years when making up nonsense songs that I sing to sleepy or fussy babies and tots. He had heard it so many times in three years that he has adapted it for his own use.

Guess that does make him a "folkbaby", huh?

As for his little sister, out of all the "sweet" little children's songs and numerous trad songs, the infant's favorite (for which she will usually stop screaming) continues to be Mary Hamilton. Nothing like a little tale of infanticide to calm a baby tummy.