were rude—for they cut me dead—
But what if they did?—I kept my head
And turned on my back and laughed in glee
At the thought of the good, good flour I'd be.

	I know I was good, yet the day came at last When they said I'd be better if soundly thrashed. Please pardon me here—I can't dwell on this much, The subject is painful—my feelings are such. Oh my! but the straw, it flew high in the air And the chaff chaffed unceasing, but I didn't care, My laughter rang forth with increased vim and zest, My chastisement I knew—just meant Pillsbury's Best.

	And then came the time when I journeyed away To the mills where the "Roller Mills" roll all day, And all of them smiled with a happy grin And welcomed us poor little wheatlets in; Oh! the grind of life—I was grasped and seized, I really can't say I was very much pleased; But to say the least, I was much impressed, And when I got through I was Pillsbury's Best. The mills where the roller mills roll all day

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