Cradle Song – by Edwin Waugh
From ‘My North Countrie – An anthology of poetry and prose of the northern counties’ collected and arranged by Wilfred Pickles. George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1955.
Cradle Song
Th’ child cries i’ th’ cradle;
Th’ cake bruns o’ th’ stone;
Th’ cow moos i’ th’ milking gap,
At th’ end o’ th’ loan.
The cat purs o’ th’ hearthstone;
Th’ clock ticks i’ th’ nook;
Th’ kettle sings o’ th’ hob; an’
Th’ pon hangs o’ th’ hook.
Th’ woint roars i’ th’ chimbley;
Brings down the soot;
Mam knits, an’ sings, an’
Rocks with her fuut.
Nan’s off a-churnin’;
Dick’s gone to th’ barn;
Lap little Billy up,
To keep him warm.
Round Billy’s curly yed,
Good fairies play;
Tentin’ his little bed,
Till break o’ day.
One day brings sunshine;
Th’ next day brings rain;
No day brings Billy’s dad
Back here again.
Sleep, little darlin’, sleep,
God watch o’er thee!
Thou’rt o’ that’s left i’ th’ world,
To comfort me!