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I wandered today to the hill, Maggie,
To watch the scene below;
The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie,
As they were long, long ago.
The green grove is gone from the hill, Maggie,
Where once the daisy's sprung;
The creaking old mill is still, Maggie,
Since you and I were young.
They say I am feeble with age, Maggie,
My steps are much slower than then;
My face is a well-written page, Maggie,
And time, all alone, was the pen.
They say we have out-lived our time, Maggie,
As faded as songs that we sung;
But to me you're as fair as you were, Maggie,
When you and I were young....
