The Poetry Corner

The Jolly Miller

By James Whitcomb Riley

[Restored Romaunt.] 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!