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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 |
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