‘There was a miller who had three sons,
And knowing his life was almost run,
He called them all, and asked their will,
If that to them he left his mill.
He called first for his eldest son,
Saying, “My life is almost run,
If I to you this mill do make,
What toll do you intend to take?”
“Father,” said he, “my name is Jack.
Out of a bushel I’ll take a peck,