The Old Home By The Mill

This is 'The old Home by the Mill'--far we still call it so, Although the old mill, roof and sill, is all gone long ago. The old home, though, and old folks, and the old spring, and a few Old cat-tails, weeds and hartychokes, is left to welcome you! Here, Marg'et, fetch the man a tin to drink out of' Our spring Keeps kindo-sorto cavin' in, but don't 'taste' anything! She's kindo agein', Marg'et is--'the old process,' like me, All ham-stringed up with rheumatiz, and on in seventy-three. Jes' me and Marg'et lives alone here--like in long ago; The childern all put off and gone, and married, don't you know? One's millin' way out West somewhere; two other miller-boys In Minnyopolis they air; and one's in Illinoise. The oldest gyrl--the first that went--married and died right here; The next lives in Winn's Settlement--for purt' nigh thirty year! And youngest one--was allus far the old home here--but no!-- Her man turns in and he packs her 'way off to Idyho! I don't miss them like _Marg'et_ does--'cause I got _her_, you see; And when she pines for them--that's 'cause _she's_ only jes' got _me_! I laugh, and joke her 'bout it all.--But talkin' sense, I'll say, When she was tuk so bad last Fall, I laughed the t'other way! I haint so favorble impressed 'bout dyin'; but ef I Found I was only second-best when _us two_ come to die, I'd 'dopt the 'new process' in full, ef _Marg'et_ died, you see,-- I'd jes' crawl in my grave and pull the green grass over me!