In Winkyway land, a magical bottle tree grows, its fruit always within reach of tiny, dimpled hands. The speaker is a drowsy baby tucked into a cradle, longing to be cuddled and rocked away while demanding a creamy white bottle of milk with a playful, sing‑song urgency. The poem spins a nursery fantasy where colic simply doesn’t exist and bellies expand happily—a gentle, knowing nod to infant reality. The mood is a blend of tender comfort and whimsical make‑believe, carried by the lilting refrain “Heigh‑ho for a bottle, I say!” It feels like a lullaby whispered between caregiver and child, full of warmth and the innocent, single‑minded hunger of the very young. There’s no worry here, only the steady rock of a cradle‑ship and the promise of that sweet, bottomless fruit.
The bottle tree — Summary
A bottle tree bloometh in Winkyway land - Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! A snug little berth in that ship I demand That rocketh the Bottle-Tree babies away Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day And reacheth its fruit to each wee, dimpled hand; You take of that fruit as much as you list, For colic's a nuisance that doesn't exist! So cuddle me and cuddle me fast, And cuddle me snug in my cradle away, For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast - Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say!
The Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day! Heigh-ho for Winkyway land! And Bottle-Tree fruit (as I've heard people say) Makes bellies of Bottle-Tree babies expand - And that is a trick I would fain understand! Heigh-ho for a bottle to-day! And heigh-ho for a bottle to-night - A bottle of milk that is creamy and white! So cuddle me close, and cuddle me fast, And cuddle me snug in my cradle away, For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast - Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say!