Kingry's Mill

On old Brandywine - about

Where White's Lots is now laid out,

And the old crick narries down

To the ditch that splits the town,

Kingry's Mill stood. Hardly see

Where the old dam ust to be;

Shallor, long, dry trought o' grass

Where the old race ust to pass!

That's be'n forty years ago -

Forty years o' frost and snow -

Forty years o' shade and shine

Sence them boyhood-days o' mine!

All the old landmarks o' town.

Changed about, er rotted down!

Where's the Tanyard? Where's the Still?

Tell me where's old Kingry's Mill?

Don't seem furder back, to me,

I'll be dogg'd! Than yisterd'y,

Since us fellers, in bare feet

And straw hats, went through the wheat,

Cuttin' 'crost the shortest shoot

Fer that-air old ellum root

Jest above the mill-dam - where

The blame' cars now crosses there!

Through the willers down the crick

We could see the old mill stick

Its red gable up, as if

It jest knowed we'd stol'd the skiff!

See the winders in the sun

Blink like they wuz wonderun'

What the miller ort to do

With sich boys as me and you!

But old Kingry! Who could fear

That old chap, with all his cheer?

Leanin' at the window-sill,

Er the half-door o' the mill,

Swoppin' lies, and pokin' fun,

'N jigglin' like his hoppers done -

Laughin' grists o' gold and red

Right out o' the wagon-bed!

What did he keer where we went?

"Jest keep out o' devilment,

And don't fool around the belts,

Bolts, ner burrs, ner nothin' else

'Bout the blame machinery,

And that's all I ast!" says-ee.

Then we'd climb the stairs, and play

In the bran-bins half the day!

Rickollect the dusty wall,

And the spider-webs, and all!

Rickollect the trimblin' spout

Where the meal come josslln' out -

Stand and comb yer fingers through

The fool-truck an hour er two -

Felt so sorto' warm-like and

Soothin' to a feller's hand!

Climb, high up above the stream,

And "coon" out the wobbly beam

And peek down from out the lof'

Where the weather-boards was off -

Gee-mun-nee! w'y, it takes grit

Even jest to think of it!

Lookin' 'way down there below

On the worter roarin' so!

Rickollect the flume, and wheel,

And the worter slosh and reel

And jest ravel out in froth

Flossier'n satin cloth!

Rickollect them paddles jest

Knock the bubbles galley-west,

And plunge under, and come up

Drippin' like a worter-pup!

And to see them old things gone

That I onc't was bettin' on,

In rale p'int o' fact, I feel

kindo' like that worter-wheel,

Sorto' drippy-like and wet

Round the eyes - but paddlin' yet,

And in mem'ry, loafin' still

Down around old Kingry's Mill!