The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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DEACON GRUMBO THE MILLER.—A NEW SONG. |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
DEACON GRUMBO THE MILLER.—A NEW SONG.
Hark! Grumbo's mill's a-going,
A-rattling and a-creaking,
While folks to church are flowing,
Yet Grumbo is a Deacon.
The stones are flying,
Grumbo's plying
Round the dusty hoppers:
This holy day,
That makes us pray,
To him brings in the coppers.
A-rattling and a-creaking,
While folks to church are flowing,
Yet Grumbo is a Deacon.
The stones are flying,
Grumbo's plying
Round the dusty hoppers:
This holy day,
That makes us pray,
To him brings in the coppers.
And yet old Grumbo still groans
Like some poor wretch in Limbo,
And prays, “Lord, dry up their millponds,
That none may grind but Grumbo.”
Then night and day,
I'll sing and pray,
Nor ever more be grumbling;
At meeting snore,
And praises roar,
To hear my mill a-rumbling.
Like some poor wretch in Limbo,
And prays, “Lord, dry up their millponds,
That none may grind but Grumbo.”
Then night and day,
I'll sing and pray,
Nor ever more be grumbling;
At meeting snore,
And praises roar,
To hear my mill a-rumbling.
I am for size and much sense,
Set up a great example,
With rattling box I catch pence
Within thy holy temple—
The reprobate
May sneer and prate,
And say, I worship Mammon,
But godly folks
Must fill their box,
And learn to save their Gammon.
Set up a great example,
With rattling box I catch pence
Within thy holy temple—
The reprobate
May sneer and prate,
And say, I worship Mammon,
But godly folks
Must fill their box,
And learn to save their Gammon.
371
'Tis true I grind one Lord's Day,
My Dutchman, Hans, the other;
His creed accords with mine aye,
Grab all you can together.
But when grim Death
Shall come in wrath,
And we like pigs are squeaking,
Let Satan clutch
The dirty Dutch,
But, Lord, take Thou the Deacon.”
My Dutchman, Hans, the other;
His creed accords with mine aye,
Grab all you can together.
But when grim Death
Shall come in wrath,
And we like pigs are squeaking,
Let Satan clutch
The dirty Dutch,
But, Lord, take Thou the Deacon.”
November 1, 1801.
A. W---n.
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |