The Old Spinning Wheel

Do you remember the old spinning wheel That stood in the attic so many years ago, 'Twas covered o'er with dust, and our mother used to say 'Twas an old family relic of our grandmother's day. How the spinning wheel would creak As if it tried to speak, Recalling tender memories of yore; How, back in other years, Her eyes would fill with tears As she heard the hum upon the attic floor. Creak, creak, how it would creak, When up to the attic we'd steal, But mother would say: "Boys, come away From grandmother's old spinning wheel."

Do you remember the cobwebs that clung To the old oaken beams in the house we were born, And there from the rafters how memory brings Back the sage and catnip and the dired apple strings. But ah! no other joys Compared, when we were boys, When we played upon the dear old attic floor. To slowly turn the wheel— And the spindle and the reel Would sing the dear old song it sand of yore Creak, creak, how it would creak, When up to the attic we'd steal. But mother would say: "Boys, come away From grandmother's old spinning wheel."