Willie Winkie

Origin
"Wee Willie Winkie" is a Scottish nursery rhyme, whose titular figure has become popular the world over as a personification of sleep. The poem, written by William Miller and titled "Willie Winkie", was first published in Whistle-binkie: Stories for the Fireside in 1841.

The original text of 1841 was written in Scots and is below:


 * Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toon,
 * Up stairs an' doon stairs in his nicht-gown,
 * Tirlin' at the window, crying at the lock,
 * "Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?"


 * "Hey, Willie Winkie, are ye comin' ben?
 * The cat's singin grey thrums to the sleepin hen,
 * The dog's speldert on the floor and disna gie a cheep,
 * But here's a waukrife laddie, that wunna fa' asleep."


 * Onything but sleep, you rogue, glow'ring like the moon,
 * Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon,
 * Rumblin', tumblin' roon about, crawin' like a cock,
 * Skirlin like a kenna-what, waukenin' sleepin' fock.


 * "Hey Willie Winkie, the wean's in a creel,
 * Wamblin' aff a bodie's knee like a verra eel,
 * Ruggin' at the cat's lug and raveling a' her thrums-
 * Hey Willie Winkie – see there he comes."


 * Wearit is the mither that has a stoorie wean,
 * A wee, stumpie, stousie, that canna rin his lane,
 * That has a battle aye wi' sleep afore he'll close an e'e-
 * But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me.[4]

Versions paraphrased for English-language readers began to appear in print from 1844 in the form:


 * Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
 * Up stairs and down stairs in his night-gown,
 * Tapping at the window, crying at the lock,
 * Are the children in their bed, for it's past ten o'clock?


 * Hey, Willie Winkie, are you coming in?
 * The cat is singing purring sounds to the sleeping hen,
 * The dog's spread out on the floor, and doesn't give a cheep,
 * But here's a wakeful little boy who will not fall asleep!


 * Anything but sleep, you rogue! glowering like the moon,'
 * Rattling in an iron jug with an iron spoon,
 * Rumbling, tumbling round about, crowing like a cock,
 * Shrieking like I don't know what, waking sleeping folk.


 * Hey, Willie Winkie – the child's in a creel!
 * Wriggling from everyone's knee like an eel,
 * Tugging at the cat's ear, and confusing all her thrums
 * Hey, Willie Winkie – see, there he comes!"


 * Weary is the mother who has a dusty child,
 * A small short little child, who can't run on his own,
 * Who always has a battle with sleep before he'll close an eye
 * But a kiss from his rosy lips gives strength anew to me