The old wagon creaked and groaned
Over the old river road,
And Old Beauty just seemed to plod along,
She was pulling a heavy load.


Three bridges stood between,
The Old Mill and our farm.
Papa let me ride along,
If I promised to do no harm.

The warm sun bathed the fields of grain,
Waiting to be windrowed.
And butterflies flutter impatiently
Over grain in our wagon load.


The lazy river runs quiet and deep,
As we near the Old Red Mill.
The paddles cause waves that turns the grist
That grinds the grain into meal.

While Papa unloads the wagon,
I wander toward the stream.
I can see the tiny little minnows
In an eddy, they hardly swim.


If I just put my toes in,
I wouldn't get too wet...
And I could catch those minnows;
Use my sox; take them home as pets.

So carefully I waded
Into the Old Mill Stream.
What happened next, appeared
Just like in a dream.


I herded all the tiny minnows
Into a little group,
And then I tried to catch them
With my sock in one fell swoop.

I stepped back and admired
The job I'd just completed.
And I stepped into a hole
And I became "unseated".


So I'm riding home with Papa,
And the air is drying my clothes.
What Mama will say when I get home,
"Only Heaven knows!"

Yes, I recall quite fondly
My trip to the Old Mill Stream.
I wonder if people still swim there,
Or is it only in my dream?

ŠKaren
Website

Scripture From Psalm: 71

I will go in the strength of the
Lord God: I will make mention
of thy righteousness, even of
thine only. O God, thou hast
taught me from my youth: and
hitherto have I declared thy
wondrous works.





         






 

Music:
"The Old Mill Stream"

From Jack's Midi's
Used With Permission 

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ŠSilver and Gold and Thee 2004