The Old and New
The old oaken bucket,
The iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket,
That hangs in the well.
A beautiful song is “The Old Oaken Bucket,”
The old oaken bucket that hangs in the well;
It’s pleasing in verse and in sentiment, too,
But to moss-covered buckets we’ve long bid farewell.
Old oaken buckets, all covered with moss,
No doubt were quite nice in their day;
But now all we want of the moss or the bucket,
Is to hear it in some minstrel lay.
Give us the pitcher of silver and gold,
Containing ice water, refreshing and cold;
We love the new pitcher; we know it is clean;
Not buried in mud, worn mossy and green.
Who wants the old bucket? It’s gone with its time,
Remembered alone by the bard in his rhyme;
So we’ll sing to the new and not to the old—
Give us the pitcher of silver and gold.
Away with the bucket,
The iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket,
The hangs in the well.
Give us the pitcher,
The golden-bound pitcher,
The bright silver pitcher—
To buckets farewell.