THE MILLER'S WILL (2)

There was an old miller who lived all alone
He had three sons who were almost grown
When he came to die and to make his will
He had nothing to give but a little old mill

Sing fal-a dick-a di-do, fal dick-a day

First called his eldest son
"Son, oh, Son, my race is run
If the mill by will to you I make
I want you to tell me the toll you'd take?"

"Father, dear Father, my name is Beck
Out of each bushel I'll take a peck."
"Fool, oh Fool," the old man cried
On the take of such toll no man can ride."

Then he called his second son
"Son, oh, Son, My race is run
If the mill by will to you I make
I want you to tell me the toll you'd take?"

"Father, dear Father, my name is Ralph
Out of each bushel I'll take a half
"Fool, oh Fool," the old man cried
On the take of such toll no man can ride."

Then he called his youngest son
"Son, oh, Son, My race is run
If the mill by will to you I make
I want you to tell me the toll you'd take?"

"Father, dear Father, my name is Jack
I'll steal all the corn and swear to the sack
"The mill is yours," the old man cried,
And then he closed up his eyes and died

DT #348
Laws Q21
@work @mill @aging @family
Collected by Jerry Connell from Lizzie Mae Cranford in Dora, Alabama in 1938.
filename[ MILLWIL2
RG
oct96
mudcat.org

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