The house that you see underneath the great pine
With walls that are painted and doors that are fine,
And meadows and cornfields around it are mine,
And meadows and cornfields around it are mine.

There on the side-hill of the woodland close by
In a house that is not half so wide or so high,
Elijah, my miller, lives, richer than I,
Elijah, my miller, lives, richer than I.

'Tis good in his blue eyes the twinkle to see
That the mill may go wrong never troubles his glee;
'Tis I that must pay for the mending, not he;
'Tis I that must pay for the mending, not he.

He laughs when I frown, and he hums when I sigh,
The pleasant love ditties of days that are by,
Now who is the richer, Elijah or I?
Now who is the richer, Elijah or I?