Lyrics

There was an old miller and he lived alone
Had three sons all fully grown
When the time came to make out his will
All he had left was a little grist mill
Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day

He called to him his eldest son
Said, "Son, oh, son my race is run.
If I the miller of you make
Pray tell me what toll you take?"
Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day

"Daddy, Daddy, this is Bill
Out of each bushel I'd take a gill."
"You fool, you fool," the old man cried.
"On such a little you'll never get a rise."
Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day

He called to him his second son
Said, "Son, oh, son, my race is run
If I the miller of you make
Pray tell me what toll you'd take?"
Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day

"Daddy, Daddy, this is, Raph
Out of each bushel I'd take half."
"Not enough, not enough," the old man said
"On such a little you'd never get ahead."
Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day

He called to him his youngest son
Said, "Son oh son my race is run
If I the miller of you make
Pray tell me what toll you would take?"
Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day

"Daddy, Daddy, this is Paul
Out of each bushel I'd take all!"
"Hallelujah," the old man cried.
Then he turned up him toes and he died
Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day

They buried him in a little box grave
Some folks think his soul was not saved.
Where he went I could not say
But I rather do think that he went the other way
Singin' fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day