Saying, “My life is almost run.
If I to you this mill do make,
What toll do you intend to take?”
“Father,” said he, “I am your only boy,
For taking toll is all my joy.
Before I will a good living lack,
I’ll take it all, and forswear the sack.”
“Thou art my boy,” the old man said,
“For thou has well learned thy trade.
This mill to thee I’ll give,” he cried,