Down in the Old Dark Mill

How well I do remember That mill along the way, Where she and I were working For fifty cents a day. She was my little sweetheart; I met her in the mill It’s a long time since I saw her. But I love her still.

Down in the Old Black Mill, That’s where first we met. Oh! that loving thrill I shall ne’er forget; And those dreamy eyes, Blue like summer skies. She was fifteen My pretty queen

In the Old Black Mill. We had agreed to marry When she’d be sweet sixteen. But then one day I crushed it My arm in the machine. I lost my job forever — I am a tramp disgraced. My sweetheart still is slaving In the same old place.