Like so many songs my mother sang to us at bedtime, we got her memory of them, her interpretation, her made up lyrics.

I only ever knew the chorus:

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Hush now don’t you cry
Too-ra-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-ra-loo-ral, That’s an I-rish lul-la-by

It’s amazing how comforting someone singing can be, still to me now (though not quite the same as being sung to). Music often soothes the things not eased by any other method. It was the one she pulled out when you were sick, or really tired – shorter than the rest, she’d just sing the chorus a few times while she smoothed the hair on your head.

Every St. Patrick’s day I can still hear her singing it.