WHEN high hot zuns da strik right down,
An' burn our zweaty fiazen brown,
An' zunny hangens that be nigh
Be back'd by hills so blue's the sky;
Then while the bells da sweetly cheem
Upon the champen high-neck'd team
How lively, wi' a friend, da seem
The white road up athirt the hill.
The zwellen downs, wi' chaky tracks,
A-climmen up ther zunny backs,
Da hide green meads, an' zedgy brooks,
An' clumps o' trees wi' glossy rooks,
An' hearty vo'ke to lafe and zing,
An' churches wi' ther bells to ring,
In parishes al in a string
Wi' white roads up athirt the hills.
At feast, when uncle's vo'ke da come
To spend the da wi' we at huome,
An' we da put upon the buard
The best of al we can avvuord,
The wolden oons do ta'ke an' smoke,
An' younger oons da play an' joke,
An' in the evemen all our vo'ke
Da bring 'em gwain athirt the hill.
Var then the green da zwarm wi' wold
An' young so thick as sheep in vuold.
The billis in the blacksmith's shop
An' mesh-green waterwheel da stop,
An' luonesome in the wheelwright's shed
's a-left the wheelless waggon bed,
While zwarms o' comen-friends da tread
The white road down athirt the hill.
An' when the winden road so white
A-climmen up the hill in zight,
Da lead to pliazen, east ar west
The vust a-know'd an' lov'd the best,
How touchen in the zunsheen's glow
Ar in the shiades that clouds da drow
Upon the zunburn'd down below,
's the white road up athirt the hill.
What pirty hollers now the long
White roads da windy roun' among,
Wi' dairy cows in woody nooks,
An' haymiakers among ther pooks,
An' housen that the trees da screen
Vrom zun an' zight by boughs o' green,
Young blushen beauty's huomes between
The white roads up athirt the hills.
