Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now reclining, sing lullaby!
Hush, do not wake the infant King.
Angels are watching, stars are shining
Over the place where He is lying:
Sing lullaby!

Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now a-sleeping, sing lullaby!
Hush, do not wake the infant King.
Soon will come sorrow with the morning,
Soon will come bitter grief and weeping:
Sing lullaby!

Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now a-dozing, sing lullaby!
Hush, do not wake the infant King.
Soon comes the cross, the nails, the piercing,
Then in the grave at last reposing;
Sing lullaby!

Sing lullaby! Lullaby! Is the babe awaking? Sing lullaby!
Hush, do not stir the infant King.
Soon will come Easter, gladsome morning.
Conquering death, its bondage breaking:
Sing lullaby!

That's what it's all about. Not the oooh-ing and ahhh-ing at a little baby in trough. He's come as infant, yes, but He's come to die and rise again for you. That's the reason for the season (which, by the way, isn't here yet).

Here's a Youtube video of a boy's choir singing a slightly different paraphrase:

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