Merrily the mill-sail 
    Turneth round and round, 
  With a breezy motion 
    And a busy sound. 
  Merrily the miller 
    Standeth at the door, 
  Humming pleasant ditties
    From his ancient store. 
Merrily, oh merrily, all the summer's day,
Hums that burly miller, while the mill-sails play. 

    At the open lattice, 
      In the little homestead near, 
    Sits the miller's good wife,
      With face of blythesome cheer; 
    And round about the gateway 
      A little sturdy throng 
    Of rosy knaves are sporting, 
      With laughter loud and long; 
And merrily, right merrily, at close of summer's day, 
Aye laugh the miller's children the while the mill-sails play. 

    Good luck befall thee, miller, 
      With thy frank and hearty smile; 
    Good luck befall thy dear ones all, 
      That know nor grief nor guile.
    When worldly cares beset us,
      And worldly hopes decline,
    'Tis well, I wot, to linger
      By simple hearths like thine, 
And merrily, still merrily, to pass the live-long day,
'Midst happier thoughts and better hopes, the while the mill-sails play.