A thing with a thundering breech
It weighing a thousand welly,
I have heard it roar
Louder than Guy's wild boar,
They say it hath death in its belly.

What weeps without eyes or eyelids,
her tears rejoicing sons and fathers--
And when she laughs and no tears fall,
her laughter saddens all hearts?

Down under the hill there was a mill;
In the mill there was a chest,
And in the chest there was a till;
In the till there was a cup,
And in the cup there was a drop.
No man could drink it,
No man could eat it,
No man could do without it.

It is in every mountain,
It's not in any hill,
It's not in all the world,
And yet it's in the mill.