MY DARLING I AM DREAMING,
OF THE DAYS GONE BY, 
WHEN YOU AND I WERE SWEETHEARTS,
BENEATH THE SUMMER SKY; 
YOUR HAIR HAS TURNED TO SILVER,
THE GOLD HAS FADED  TOO; 
BUT STILL I WILL REMEMBER, 
WHERE I FIRST MET YOU. 
 
THE OLD MILL WHEEL IS SILENT, 
AND HAS FALLEN DOWN, 
THE OLD OAK TREE HAS WITHERED, 
AND LIES THERE ON THE GROUND; 
WHILE YOU AND I ARE SWEETHEARTS, 
THE SAME AS DAYS OF  YORE; 
ALTHOUGH WE'VE BEEN TOGETHER, 
FORTY YEARS OR  MORE. 

~Chorus~
       
DOWN BY THE OLD MILL STREAM,
WHERE I FIRST MET YOU, 
WITH YOUR EYES OF BLUE,
DRESSED IN GINGHAM TOO. 
IT WAS THERE I KNEW,
THAT YOU LOVED ME TRUE. 
YOU WERE SIXTEEN, 
MY VILLAGE QUEEN, 
BY THE OLD MILL STREAM.