THE FOOLISH OLD MAN
A miller's daughter, as I heard tell—
Sing heigh! but the maid was merry—
Was loved by her father's man full well,
His cheek was brown as a berry.
He made the grey mare fast to her stall,
The red cow drove to the byre,
Then he sought the old man in his hall,
Where he sat before the fire.
Quoth he, “Old man, I have served you true,
Full twenty years and over,
Now your daughter's hand I do beg from you
That she wed her faithful lover.”
When the farmer heard the youth so speak
There was not reason in him,
His anger like a storm did break,
He feared he could not win him.
Cried he, “Rash youth, since you dare to nurse
This dream,—this secret wooing,
If you should wed, may a father's curse
Be your swift and sure undoing.
“My curse shall feed on your fields of corn,
On your roof-tree make its nesting,
Your wife shall wish your child unborn
As he pines on her sore heart resting.”
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