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!