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lyrics
There was an old man, lived all alone,
He had three sons, was almost grown.
Oh, when he come to make his will,
All he had was a little old mill.
Come a whack come a ra (2)
Whack come a ra come a ri-do.
Then he called his oldest son,
“Son, oh son, my days are done.
Oh, if to you the will I’d make,
I’d love to know the toll you take.”
Come a whack....
“Father, oh father, my name is Rex.
Out of every bushel I’d take a peck.
Oh, every bushel the mill would grind,
A very good living I would find.”
Come a whack...
“Well, the mill’s not yours,” the old man cried,
“The mill’s not yours,” the old man cried,
“Well, the mill’s not yours,” the old man cried,
“‘Cause you’ve not fairly learned your trade.”
Come a whack...
Then he called his next oldest son,
“Son, oh son,” my days are done.
“Oh, if to you the will I’d make,
I’d love to know the toll you’ll take.”
Come a whack...
“Father, oh father, my name is Ralph.
Out of every bushel I’d take a half.
Well, every bushel the mill would grind,
A very good living I would find.”
Come a whack...
“Well, the mill’s not yours,” The old man cried,
“The mill’s not yours,” The old man cried,
“Well, the mill’s not yours,” the old man cried,
“‘Cause you’ve not fairly learned your trade.”
Come a whack...
Then he called his youngest son,
“Son, oh son, my days are done.
Oh, if to you the will I’d make,
I’d love to know the toll you’ll take.”
Come a whack...
“Father, oh father, my name is Wright.
Stealing corn is my delight.
I’d steal the corn and swear to the sack,
And give him a licking when he got back.”
Come a whack...
“Well, the mill is yours,” the old man cried,
“The mill is yours,” the old man cried,
“Well, the mill is yours,” the old man cried.
He shut his eyes and there he died.
Come a whack...
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