Blow wind, blow
And go, mill, go:
That the miller
May grind his corn;
That the baker may take it,
And into rolls make it
And bring us some
Hot in the morn.
And go, mill, go:
That the miller
May grind his corn;
That the baker may take it,
And into rolls make it
And bring us some
Hot in the morn.
Lots of wind in Mercy's neighborhood this week.
All manner of things blown about, house creaking & shaking,
tree branches falling from the sky, windows a-rattling.
tree branches falling from the sky, windows a-rattling.
What's a small frightened dog to do?
Why scuttle to a safe spot, of course.
Let the hubbub pass.
How about a biscuit while we wait, please?
Let the hubbub pass.
How about a biscuit while we wait, please?
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