The Jolly Miller

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It was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee;
He looked upon his piller, and there he found a flea:
  "O Mr. Flea! you have bit' me,
  And you shall shorely die!"
  So he scrunched his bones against the stones--
  And there he let him lie!

Twas then the Jolly Miller he laughed and told his wife,
And _she_ laughed fit to kill her, and dropped her carvin'-knife!--
  "O Mr. Flea!" "Ho-ho!" "Tee-hee!"
  They _both_ laughed fit to kill,
  Until the sound did almost drownd
  The rumble of the mill!

_"Laugh on, my Jolly Miller! and Missus Miller, too!--
But there's a weeping-willer will soon wave over you!"_
  The voice was all so awful small--
  So very small and slim!--
  He durst' infer that it was her,
  Ner her infer 'twas him!

That night the Jolly Miller, says he, "It's Wifey dear,
That cat o' yourn, I'd kill her!--her actions is so queer,--
  She rubbin' 'ginst the grindstone-legs,
  And yowlin' at the sky--
  And I 'low the moon haint greener
  Than the yaller of her eye!"

And as the Jolly Miller went chuckle-un to bed,
Was _Somepin_ jerked his piller from underneath his head!
  "O Wife," says he, on-easi-lee,
  "Fetch here that lantern there!"
  But _Somepin_ moans in thunder tones,
  "_You tetch it ef you dare!_"

'Twas then the Jolly Miller he trimbled and he quailed--
And his wife choked until her breath come back, 'n' she _wailed!_
  And "_O!"_ cried she, "it is _the Flea_,
  All white and pale and wann--
  He's got you in his clutches, and
  _He's bigger than a man!_"

"_Ho! ho! my Jolly Miller," (fer 'twas the Flea, fer shore!)
"I reckon you'll not rack my bones ner scrunch 'em any more!_"
  And then _the Ghost_ he grabbed him clos't,
  With many a ghastly smile,
  And from the doorstep stooped and hopped
  About four hundred mile!

© James Whitcomb Riley