the MILLER OF DRONE.
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THERE was a Miller flout and ftrong, fed up wi’ beef and brofe, Wi’ fturdy legs and fhoulders broag, As you may well fuppofe. This Miller was a Miller good, as ever hang a ftone, He got his multer different ways; this Miller liv’d in Drone.
chorus.
With his hizy weazy, foft and eafy Aye the mill goes on, Of a’ the Millers e’er I faw. There’s nane like him in Drone.
A fair maid file went to the mill, with corn on her head, Cries, Miller ye maun grind my corn, far we arc fcant o’ bread. He took this fair maid in his arms, in motion fet the Hone, And the mill went fweetly clink for clank, wi a' the graith of Drone. With his, &c.
