She'd a gown wi' girt flowers lik' hollyhocks, An' zome stockèns o' gramfer's a-knit wì' clocks, An' a token she kept under lock an' key,-- A small lock ov his heäir off avore 't wer grey. An' her eyes wer red, An' she shook her head, When we'd all a-look'd at it, an' she did use To lock it away wi' her weddèn shoes.
She could tell us such teäles about heavy snows, An' o' raïns an' o' floods when the waters rose All up into the housen, an' carr'd awoy All the bridge wi' a man an' his little bwoy; An' o' vog an' vrost, An' o' vo'k a-lost, An' o' peärties at Chris'mas, when she did use Vor to walk hwome wi' gramfer in high-heel shoes.
Ev'ry Chris'mas she lik'd vor the bells to ring, An' to have in the zingers to heär em zing The wold carols she heärd many years a-gone, While she warm'd em zome cider avore the bron'; An' she'd look an' smile At our dancèn, while She did tell how her friends now a-gone did use To reely wi' her in their high-heel shoes.
Ah! an' how she did like vor to deck wi' red Holly-berries the window an' wold clock's head, An' the clavy wi' boughs o' some bright green leaves, An' to meäke twoast an' eäle upon Chris'mas eves; But she's now, drough greäce, In a better pleäce, Though we'll never vorget her, poor soul, nor lose Gramfer's token ov heäir, nor her weddèn shoes.
The winter clouds, that long did hide The zun, be all a-blown azide, An' in the light, noo longer dim, Do sheen the ivy that do clim' The tower's zide an' elem's stim; An' holmen bushes, in between The leafless thorns, be bright an' green To zunsheen o' the winter.
The trees, that yesterday did twist In wind's a-drevèn raïn an' mist, Do now drow sheädes out, long an' still; But roarèn watervals do vill Their whirlèn pools below the hill, Where, wi' her païl upon the stile, A-gwaïn a-milkèn Jeäne do smile To zunsheen o' the winter.
The birds do sheäke, wi' plaÿsome skips, The raïn-drops off the bushes' tips, A-chirripèn wi' merry sound; While over all the grassy ground The wind's a-whirlèn round an' round So softly, that the day do seem Mwore lik' a zummer in a dream, Than zunsheen in the winter.
The wold vo'k now do meet abrode, An' tell o' winter's they've a-know'd; When snow wer long above the groun', Or floods broke all the bridges down, Or wind unheal'd a half the town,-- The teäles o' wold times long a-gone, But ever dear to think upon, The zunsheen o' their winter.