I be thinkin'

The hillside green with bracken

And the red plough land,

The brownish hurrying rivers

Where the willows stand,

The thicket and the meadows,

And the strong oak trees,

O, tell me, traveller, have yer

Seen the likes o' these?

The mists along the common

At the close of day,

They're lovely when the twilight

Makes the vale look grey,

The lanes be long and lonely,

But they all lead home;

I be thinkin' lads are foolish

When they wants to roam!