Mill Song

Merrily the mill-sail

Turneth round and round,

With a breezy motion

And a busy sound.

Merrily the miller

Standeth at the door,

Humming pleasant ditties

From his ancient store.

Merrily, oh merrily, all the summer's day,

Hums that burly miller, while the mill-sails play.

At the open lattice,

In the little homestead near,

Sits the miller's good wife,

With face of blythesome cheer;

And round about the gateway

A little sturdy throng

Of rosy knaves are sporting,

With laughter loud and long;

And merrily, right merrily, at close of summer's day,

Aye laugh the miller's children the while the mill-sails play.

Good luck befall thee, miller,

With thy frank and hearty smile;

Good luck befall thy dear ones all,

That know nor grief nor guile.

When worldly cares beset us,

And worldly hopes decline,

'Tis well, I wot, to linger

By simple hearths like thine,

And merrily, still merrily, to pass the live-long day,

'Midst happier thoughts and better hopes, the while the mill-sails play.