The Old Spinning Wheel

Do you remember the old spinning wheel
That stood in the attic so many years ago,
'Twas covered o'er with dust, and our mother used
to say
'Twas an old family relic of our grandmother's
day.
How the spinning wheel would creak
As if it tried to speak,
Recalling tender memories of yore;
How, back in other years,
Her eyes would fill with tears
As she heard the hum upon the attic floor.
Creak, creak, how it would creak,
When up to the attic we'd steal,
But mother would say:
"Boys, come away
From grandmother's old spinning wheel."

Do you remember the cobwebs that clung
To the old oaken beams in the house we were born,
And there from the rafters how memory brings
Back the sage and catnip and the dired apple strings.
But ah! no other joys
Compared, when we were boys,
When we played upon the dear old attic floor.
To slowly turn the wheel--
And the spindle and the reel
Would sing the dear old song it sand of yore
Creak, creak, how it would creak,
When up to the attic we'd steal.
But mother would say:
"Boys, come away
From grandmother's old spinning wheel."