Walking betimes close by a waterside
A pair of lovely milkmaids there I chanced to spy;
One of the them was fair, as fair as fair might be;
The other, she was brown with rolling wanton eye.

Cyder to make sillabubs, they carried in their pails
And sugar in their purses hung, dangling at their tails;

Waistcoats of flannel and petticoats of red;
Before them, milk-white aprons and straw-hats on their head.

Well fare you, merry milkmaids that dabble in the dew,
For you have kisses plenty when ladies have but few.