[Lyrics composed by DDJ, firstly, in the doric, and then in
English, to the midi music written by George Evans for the song,
' In the Good Old Summer Time']
There's fower months i' dizzen, thit tirn Med-fowks a' wizzen,
Frae bilin' simmer oors,
Fan the gress gings thrist broon, nae pirr-winnies lick roon,
I' birslin' simmer oors.
Fan the scunner darg's eyn-ed, an aff hamewards thur senned,
Fowk's ken thit the even asseers,
Kweel soomin' sae ristin, afore saarin dennin,
Re-peys a' bilin' oors.
Wi'-sich bilin' simmer oors,
Aye syne streetchin' a' fowks' pooers,
Them thole the un-for-gie-in sin,
Lik weil gizzen'd flooers.
Joogs o' cweel bree, an' takin leethe,
Are baith them the verra dunt,
Tae stey hale-an-fere, thit is fer-shair,
Ben lang birs'lin simmer oors.
There's four months in the dozen, that has loats Med-folks
From roasting summer hours,
When the grass goes dry brown, no fresh zephyrs blow round,
In the boiling summer hours.
When the sore day's work's ended and off home they've wended,
Folks know that the ev'ning allows,
Cool swimming so restful, before savour'd dining,
Repays all roasting hours.
With such boiling summer hours,
Oft times stretching all folks' pow'rs,
Surviving unforgiving sun,
Like well dried-out flowers.
Jugs of cool juice, and seeking shade,
Are both a need indeed,
For them to endure, of that they're sure,
Through the roasting summer hours.
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