Aye, aye, vull rathe the zun mus' rise
To meäke us tired o' zunny skies,
A-sheenèn on the whole day drough,
From mornèn's dawn till evenèn's dew.
When trees be brown an' meäds be green,
An' skies be blue, an' streams do sheen,
An' thin-edg'd clouds be snowy white
Above the bluest hills in zight;
But I can let the daylight goo,
When I've a-met wi'--I know who.
In Spring I met her by a bed
O' laurels higher than her head;
The while a rwose hung white between
Her blushes an' the laurel's green;
An' then in Fall, I went along
The row of elems in the drong,
An' heärd her zing bezide the cows,
By yollow leaves o' meäple boughs;
But Fall or Spring is feäir to view
When day do bring me--I know who.
An' when, wi' wint'r a-comèn roun',
The purple he'th's a-feädèn brown,
An' hangèn vern's a-sheäkèn dead,
Bezide the hill's besheäded head:
An' black-wing'd rooks do glitter bright
Above my head, in peäler light;
Then though the birds do still the glee
That sounded in the zummer tree,
My heart is light the winter drough,
In me'th at night, wi'--I know who.
