The Old Cider Mill

You can have your tinted clarets and your wines both old and rare,

     You can have your sparkling champagnes if you will;

As for me I have a yearning for the cider mill that’s turning

     And producing joy and sunshine in the shade of Martin’s hill.

                   O the old cider mill,

                   Standing close beneath the hill,

Where we passed so many hours with a straw held in the foam;

I can see it plain as day,

Tho’ it’s many miles away,

‘Tis a bright and golden mem’ry of my boyhood’s country home.

I can see the old horse treading, I can hear the grinding cogs,

     I can see the juices running down the cheese;

I can see a youngster kneeling with a sweet, contented feeling,

     With a straw poked in the liquid, such a thirsting to appease!

                   O luscious cider mill,

                   You are turning, turning still,

Two hundred miles divide us, and regret steals in today;

                   But if I had a straw

                   That would reach you I would draw

And draw until I’d fetched you in the good old fashioned way.

Sept. 16, 1900