Old Man at the Mill




Same old man living at the mill,
The mill turns around of its own free will,
Hand in the hopper and the other in the sack,
Ladies step forward and the gents fall back.


Down sat an owl with his head all white,
Lonesome day and a lonesome night,
Thought I heard a pretty girl say,
Court all night and you sleep next day.


Then said the raven as she flew,
If I was a young one I'd get two,
One for to knit and the other to sew,
And I'd have a string for my bow, bow, bow.


My old man's in Kalamazoo,
He don't wear no "yes, I do",
First to the left and then to the right,
This old mill grinds day and night.

Page design by Lynn Lewis © - 2016 All Rites, Writes, Wrights, Rights & Wrongs Reserved