Composed by Will Meade of Potterne, Wiltshire - probably to be recited rather than sung. I don't know who put a tune to it.
This is as sung by John Alderslade of Trowbridge. Fred may have modified it - I don't have a copy of 'The Folker'
I can't check the original at the moment as all our libraries are closed by the plague.
I've lived nearby for almost sixty years so I'm virtually tri-lingual -Lallans, English and Wurzel - in chronological order.

SILBURY HILL
(Will Meade)

Old Nick one fine morning did set out to pay -
A visit to Marlboro as I 'as yerd say
When 'e gets to thic spot where Silbury Hill be
A shepherd, some sheep and a dog 'e did see.

"Good morning" says Nick and "'ow do you do?"
"'stablished" says shepherd "and hope you be too.
Where be you goin' to this time of day?"
"To Marlboro" says Nick "but I can't find me way"

When then, lucky-like, shepherd did spy Old Nick's tail,
Knowin' who t'were, put 'n on the wrong trail.
And when Nick had gone, off thic shepherd he did belt,
For to tell Marlboro folk what 'e'd seen, yerd and smelt.

They was near scared to death 'til up comes a wise man
To stop Nick a'coming 'e had a good plan
"What plan 'as thee got?" "Oh ah" he said "marry,
Bring I all the old boots and shoes you can carry"

So they brought 'im a nashin' gert lot in a sack
'e said "heft the lot of 'em up on me back"
Which they did - off 'e went and met Nick who did say
"How far off be Marlboro? Do seem a main way"

"Ah ha" said thic wise man, slingin' down 'is gert sack.
"Can't tell how far 'tis but miles and miles back.
For when I left Marlboro these boots was all new
I've wore them all out comin' this far s'know you."

"Oh Lord" says Old Nick "If be far off as that,
Marlboro's a place I shall never be at,
I've been goin' around in a circle" said he,
"For it must have been here that some shepherd I'd see."

Off he goes. Thic wise man he's done Nick by 'is craft
' e near split 'is sides by the manner 'e laughed
They boots and they shoes what 'e slung from 'is sack,
'e looked them all around - they weren't worth taking back.

So, 'e left thik gert pile lying there, y'may know
How in ten thousand years how yer tackle do grow
For they boots an' they shoes they'm a'lyin' there still
An' wi' dirt an' wi' gravel they made Silbury Hill.