She was the miller's daughter fair,
Oft to the old mill window there
Came a fisher lad to woo,
Vowing his heart was fond and true,
But the maid was cold and proud,
Laughed at him and all he vowed.
When he begged her "Be my bride!"
Scornfully she replied,
Don't be cross, it cannot be.
Don't be cross, dear one, with me.
I can never share your lot,
But still, but still
Forget me not.
She is the miller's daughter still,
Wooers have somehow passed the mill,
Not so youthful as of yore,
She is cold and proud no more.
When she sees her old love pass,
From her window smiles the lass,
But to her glances and her sighs
Merrily he replies,
Don't be cross, it cannot be,
Don't be cross, dear one, with me.
I can never share your lot,
But still, but still,
Forget me not.
Don't be cross, it cannot be.
But still, but still,
Forget me not.
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