Words by A. Jewett. Music by J. L. Molloy.
Down the street went the miser Sly
One cold, dark morn when winds did blow,
A twinkling sin in each wicked eye
That glistened with greed as his locks did flow;
The children mocked him and laughed with scorn.
And the men muttered, "Why was old Simeon born?"
And the old folks said with a shaking head,
"Where does he expect he will go when he's dead?"
And the maidens sighed as he passed them by,
"Wicked old miserly Simeon Sly,
Wicked old miserly Simeon Sly."
Midnight came and the wind was shrill,
Still louder, louder swelling,
'Round the wretched house on the wild bleak hill,
The wretched old miserly dwelling;
It tore through the chinks of the crazy door,
It moaned, it wailed on the shaking floor,
And it lifted the latch, and it tore at the thatch
And the window pane with its paper patch,
And out on the gale with a desolate cry
Floated the spirit, of Simeon Sly,
Floated the spirit of Simeon Sly.
They searched ev'ry corner, nook and hole,
Each hiding place for the miser's treasure.
And they found the gold which had bought his soul,
And had lost each innocent pleasure:
And they found the remains of a long vanished hour:
A yellow love letter, a poor faded flow'r.
And with these on his breast he was laid to rest,
And the old women said, "May his soul be blessed!"
And the maidens sighed, "May he peacefully lie;
There was surely some good in old Simeon Sly,
There was surely some good in old Simeon Sly."