"Where are you going to, my pretty fair maid,
Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"
"I'm going a milking, kind sir," she answered me,
"For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."

"What is your father then, my pretty fair maid,
Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"
"My father's a farmer, kind sir," she answered me,
"For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."

"What is your mother then, my pretty fair maid,
Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"
"The wife of my father, kind sir," she answered me,
"For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."

"May I come along with you, my pretty fair maid,
Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"
"Just as it please you, kind sir," she answered me,
"For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."

"Suppose I ran away from you, my pretty fair maid,
Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"
"The devil may run after you, I will stand and laugh at you,
For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."