THE GRINDSTONE KINGWelcome to old Minudie-We are so glade you came,We would like to tell you a storyOf a man who brought us fame.Amos Seaman boarded a ferry,Year seventeen-ninety five-Just a lonely lad who had left his home,He landed on Minudie side.Amos grew to a man of vision Who had a poets soul,He saw a future in the hayfieldsThe grindstone and the coal.The hay from Minudie marshesWas shipped to Boston Town-Soon men were digging the grinding stoneThe finest there was around.Next Amos looked to the timberHe bought a mill run by steam-Minudie was now so busy,The realizing of a dream.Ships were here built to carry the cargo-Bringing imports from distant lands,From needed tools, to finest rumTo silk gloves for miladys hands.He set a grant for burial land,Imported a linden tree-From England came water lilies,Placed in a lake for all to see.Amos was dubbed The Grindstone King,And here he was laid to rest-With him died our industryBur our scenery is still the nations best.So welcome to old Minudie-Our village of King Seaman fame,We bid you to bide awhile-For we are so glade you came. –Hope Harrison-