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Miller's Will, The
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(Traditional) Last Updated 07/12/96 D There was an old miller and he lived alone A D Had three sons all fully grown G D When the time came to make out his will D A D All he had left was a little grist mill. D A D Refrain: Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, Fol dig-a-day. He called to him his eldest son Said, "son, oh son my race is run If I a miller of you make Pray tell me what toll you take?" Father, oh father my name is Bill Out of each bushel I'd take a gill You fool you fool the old man cries On such a little you'll never get a rise. He called to him his, second son Said, "son oh son my race is run If I a miller of you make Pray tell me what toll you'd take?" Father, oh father my name is, Ralph Out of each bushel I'd take half Not enough, not enough the old man said Such a little you'd never get ahead. He called to him his youngest son Said, "son oh son my race is run If I a miller of you make Pray tell me what toll you would take?" Father, oh father my name is Paul Out of each bushel I'd take all Hallelujah, the old man cried Then he turned up him toes, and he died. They buried him in a little box grave Some do not think his soul was saved Where he went I could not say But I rather believe he went the other way.
This File contains merely an interpretation of the represented
It is not intended to replace any commercially available publishing, nor is it
guaranteed to represent an exact transcription of any commercially or otherwise released
Ed Bick's Tab Archive, 1997