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Pendle Nestlin’ Song – by Alice Miller
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.
I knew nothing about Alice Miller, author of this lovely lullaby, but found the following interesting biographical information on website http://web.ukonline.co.uk/m.gratton/19th%20Century/1893.htm.
Alice Miller neé Bass ..... author, poet and playwright whose dedication to the Lancashire Authors' Association is remembered by many library users in Lancashire. She was born October 12th 1893 near Blackburn and her writing talent was quickly recognised by the headmaster at her school. At the age of 13 she left school to work in a cotton mill but struggled to improve her education by attending evening classes in Accrington and Blackburn. In 1937 she obtained an L.C.C. scholarship and took up a comprehensive training course at Hillcroft College, Surrey. In 1942 she joined the Lancashire Authors' Association, became editor of its journal The Record in 1949 and in 1963 was appointed a Vice President. She also became a member of the advisory and editorial panel of the International Who's Who in Poetry and a member of the sub-committee for the International Dictionary of Biography. Alice was also a part time drama tutor and producer for the Lancashire Federation of Community Service Clubs, a lecturer and speaker. Later in life she became a prolific writer of plays, poems, articles, stories etc both in dialect and standard English. She also wrote verses for hymns, children's stories and some of her poems appeared on Christmas cards belonging to the Royal Family. She was also very keen to preserve Lancashire heritage and her native dialect tongue and so joined the Lancashire Dialect Society as well. In 1954 her efforts were recognised by the then Oswaldtwistle Urban District Council when a new street of council houses ' Miller Close' was named in her honour
Pendle Nestlin’ Song
Cock-a-loo, a-laddie, O
Just thee howd thi hush an’ O;
Fer t’ neet hes lapped id shawl areawnd
Owd Pendle’s grey-blue hill.
Soa, sniggle to thi mammy, O,
Mi cock-a-loo, a-laddie, O;
An’ rest thee quate like t’ craathurs do,
When t’ dark bids ’em be still!
Cock-a-loo, a-laddie, O,
Just thee shut thi een, an’ O;
Fer up an’ deawn the siller steeors
Owd Nod ull ride a’ neet:
He weeors, he weeors green buckles, O,
Mi cock-a-loo, a-laddie, O;
An’ t’ moon ull paint a’ t’ winda panes,
Till mornin’ brings cock-leet!
Cock-a-loo, a-laddie, O,
Just thee goa to sleep, an’ O;
Fer sleepin’ time is growin’ time
Fer t’ chuckies, an’ fer thee!
Soa dunna laik abeawt so much;
A-showin’ a’ thi chaarms, an’ such –
Mi cock-a-loo, a-laddie, ay,
Mi cock-a-loo, a-lee!
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