 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
THE MILL SONG
Corn is a-sowing
Over the hill,
The stream is a-flowing,
Round goes the mill.
Over the hill,
The stream is a-flowing,
Round goes the mill.
Winding and grinding,
Round goes the mill;
Winding and grinding
Should never stand still.
The hands that are strongest
Are welcome here,
And those that work longest
Earn the best cheer.
Round goes the mill;
Winding and grinding
Should never stand still.
The hands that are strongest
Are welcome here,
And those that work longest
Earn the best cheer.
The green corn is hinting
Over the hill,
Lasses tormenting
The lads to their fill.
Over the hill,
Lasses tormenting
The lads to their fill.
Winding and grinding, &c.
133
The gold corn is glinting
Over the hill;
Lasses consenting,
Lads have their will.
Over the hill;
Lasses consenting,
Lads have their will.
Winding and grinding, &c.
Corn is a-carrying
Into the mill;
Young folk are marrying
Over the hill.
Into the mill;
Young folk are marrying
Over the hill.
Winding and grinding, &c.
From the hands of the shaker
Again goes the corn,
The old to God's acre
Gently are borne.
Again goes the corn,
The old to God's acre
Gently are borne.
Winding and grinding, &c.
The green corn is glistening
Once more with the spring;
Children are christening,
Glad mothers sing.
Once more with the spring;
Children are christening,
Glad mothers sing.
Winding and grinding, &c.
134
Thus our life runs around,
Like the mill with its corn.
Young folk are marrying,
Old folk are burying,
Young folk are born.
Like the mill with its corn.
Young folk are marrying,
Old folk are burying,
Young folk are born.
Winding and grinding,
Round goes the mill;
Winding and grinding
Should never stand still.
The hands that are strongest
Are welcome here,
And they that work longest
Earn the best cheer.
Round goes the mill;
Winding and grinding
Should never stand still.
The hands that are strongest
Are welcome here,
And they that work longest
Earn the best cheer.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |