Song in Norwegian dialect by the Norwegian writer Alf Prøysen

 

t’Grindstone waltz

With fresh ruddy cheeks all flowers they do sway

t’Meadow stands summer-clad

t’Fern she be flexing, ‘t wild rose be stretching

t’Bridal-veil forms a thick plaid

All breathes of evenin’, of peace, calm and space

no flower be aware yet of what will take place

But t’grindstone waltz plays more and more

and now it be me who t’wheelcrank shall draw

t’Grindstone waltz plays more and more

for t’flowers in the meadow I ken what’s in store:

When t’scythe be keen and when t’whetstone’s around

on t’morrow they’ll come and mow straws to the ground

and in evenin’s peace they’ll hear nowt but one sound

Nowt but t’grindstone waltz that plays more

and more and more...

I once were a flower, ruddy cheeked and full glad

And t’meadow stood summer-clad

t’Fern she were flexing, ‘t wild rose were stretching

t’Bridal-veil formed a thick plaid

But flowers and young lasses they blossom reet wild

and dream of fine weddin’s and all that be mild.

But t’grindstone waltz plays more and more

and now it be me who t’wheelcrank shall draw

t’Grindstone waltz plays more and more

for t’flowers and young lasses I ken what’s in store:

When t’scythe be keen and when t’whetstone’s around

on t’morrow they’ll come and mow straws to the ground

and in evenin’s peace they’ll hear nowt but one sound

Nowt but t’grindstone waltz that plays more

and more and more...

To see the original text, go to here