Tak ear o’ t’ Oade Cradle, though t’ rockers be loose,
Ah like it far better nor owt ‘at’s i’ t’ hoose,
Tho’ t’ end’s rather sprung – thar at back-side o’ t’ head,
It may be a cradle when thee an’ me’s deead.

Me fadther he bowt it when ah wor a barn,
Ov Oade Molly Mawson ‘at used to spin garn;
It did for me mother, an’ seea far for me,
Seea, dust it, an’ clean it, an’ then let it be.

Them’s t’ third pair o’ rockers its had sin ‘t wor new;
Its sported all manthers o’ cullers bud blue;
Me mother she charged me to clean it for mense;
An’ ah’ve kept it all reight for a little expense.

Ah’ve rock’d we me hands, ah’ve rock’d we me feet;
Sometimes ah’ve sat rockin’ fra mornin’ to neet;
Yet, tho’ ah’ve done rockin’, t’ Oade Cradle ah’l seeave
For some one to rock in, when ah’s imme greave.

Thomas Blackah