MILLER'S WILL



There was an old miller by everyone known

He had three sons was all nigh grown

When he came to die and make his will

He had nothing to give but an old tub* mill



He called up his eldest son

He says, "My son, I'm almost done

And if the mill to you I'd make

Pray tell me how much toll you intend to take?"



"Oh dear father, my name is Heck

And out of each bushel I'll take one peck

And every bushel I do grind

A very fine living at that I'll find"



"You are a fool," the old man said,

"You have not fairly learned my trade

The mill to you I will not give

For never a miller at that can live"



He next called up his second son

He says, "My son, I'm almost done

And if the mill to you I'd make

Pray tell me how much toll you intend to take?"



"Oh dear father, my name is Ralph

And out of each bushel I'd take one half

And every bushel I do grind

A very fine living at that I'll find"



"You are a fool," the old man said,

"You have not fairly learned my trade

The mill to you I will not give

For never a miller at that can live"



He next called up his youngest son

He says, "My son, I'm almost done

And if the mill to you I'd make

Pray tell me how much toll you intend to take?"



"Oh dear father, I am your son

I'll take three pecks and leave just one

And if a good living at that I do lack

I'll take the other and swear to the sack"



"You are my son," the old man said,

"For you have fairly learned my trade

The mill is yours," the old man cried,

And he closed up his eyes and died



@work @mill @age @family

note: "tub" mill must be grist mill

collected by Sharp from Ida Banks in Burnsville NC in 1918

filename[ MILLWILL

SF

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