Song. Nancy and the Miller

One midsummer morning, when nature look'd gay, The birds full of song, and the flocks full of play, When earth seem'd to answer the smiles from above And all things proclaim'd it a season of love; My mother cry'd, Nancy, come hast to the mill, If the corn be not ground you may scold if you will.

The freedom to use my tongue pleas'd me, no doubt; A woman, alas! would be nothing without; I went towards the mill without any delay, And conn'd o'er the words I determin'd to say: But when I came near it, I found it stock still, Bless my stars now, cry'd I, huff him rarely I will.

The Miller to market that instant was gone, The work it was left to the care of his son: Now, though I can scold well as any one can, I thought 'twould be wrong for to scold the young man: I said, I'm surpriz'd you can use me so ill, I must have my corn ground, I must and I will.

Sweet maid, cry'd the youth, the fault is not mine, No corn in the town I'd grind sooner than thine; There's no one more ready in pleasing the fair, The mill shall go merrily round, I declare. But hark how the birds sing, and see how they bill, I must have a kiss first, I must and I will.

My corn being done, I towards home bent my way, He whisper'd he'd something of moment to say: Insisted to hand me along the green mead, And there swore he lov'd are indeed, and indeed! And that he'd be constant and true to me still, And since that I've lik'd him, and like him I will.

I often say, Mother, the miller I'll huff. She laughs and cries, Go, girl, aye plague him enough; And scarce a day passes, but by her desire. I get a sly kiss from the youth I admire. If wedlock he wishes, his wish I'll fulfill, And I'll answer O yes, with a hearty good will.