Jerry Garcia – The Millers Will (Guitar)

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Chords

[Intro]
D
There was an old miller and he lived alone

A                  D
Had three sons all fully grown

G                     D
When the time came to make out his will

D                     A            D
All he had left was a little grist mill

D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day
[Verse]
D
He called to him his eldest son

       A               D
Said, "Son, oh, son my race is run

   G          D
If I a miller of you make

D                 A        D
Pray tell me what toll you take?"

D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day
[Verse]
D
Father, oh father my name is Bill

A                      D
Out of each bushel I'd take a gill

    G                   D
You fool, you fool, the old man cried

D                       A           D
On such a little you'll never get a rise

D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day
[Verse]
D
Well, he called to him his second son

       A                D
Said, "Son, oh, son, my race is run

   G          D
If I a miller of you make

D                 A          D
Pray tell me what toll you'd take?"

D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day
[Verse]
D
Father, oh father, my name is, Ralph

A                  D
Out of each bushel I'd take half

    G                       D
Not enough, not enough, the old man said

D                   A         D
Such a little you'd never get ahead

D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day
[Verse]
D
He called to him his youngest son

       A             D
Said, "son oh son my race is run

   G          D
If I a miller of you make

D                 A          D
Pray tell me what toll you'd take?"

D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day
[Verse]
D
Father, oh father, my name is Paul

A                  D
Out of each bushel I'd take all

G               D
Hallelujah, the old man cried

D                     A           D
Then he turned up him toes and he died

D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day
[Verse]
D
They buried him in a little box grave

A                     D
Some do not think his soul was saved

G               D
Where he went I could not say

D                       A              D
But I rather believe he went the other way

D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day
[Outro]
D                G      A         D
Sing a fol-dig-a-di-oh, fol dig-a-day