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James Whitcomb Riley - The Jolly Miller
Work rating: Low

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!
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