2
So he call'd up his eldest son,
Said he, "My glass is almost run.
If I to thee my mill shall give,
Tell me what toll thou'lt take to live?"
3
"Father," said he, "My name is Jack,
From every bushel I'll take a peck.
From every grist that I do grind,
That I may thus good living find."
4
"Thou art a fool," the old man said,
"Thou hast not half acquired thy trade.
My mill to thee I ne'er will give
For by such toll no man can live."
5
Then he call'd up his second son,
Said he, "My glass is almost run.
If I to thee my mill shall make,
Tell me what toll to live thou'lt take?"
6
"Father you know my name is Ralph,
From every bushel I'll take a half
From every grist that I do grind,
That I may thus a living find."