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 and more. 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.