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T was on summer's morning, as birds sweetly sung on each bough, I heard a fair maid sweetly singing, as she sat a milking her cow

She sung with a voice so melodious, that made me scarce able to go; My heart it was smother'd with sorrow, by the pretty maid milking her cow.

I courteously thus did salute her.—— Good-morrow, fair amorous maid, I'n your captive slave for the future,—— Kind sir do not banter she said;

I'm not such a precious jewel, that you could remember me so; I'm but a plain country girl, said the pretty maid milking her cow.

All India can afford no such jewel, so charming or transparent fair; Pray do not add flames to my fuel, but content and love me, my dear.

Take pity, and grant my desire, and leave me no longer in woe; Come love, or die I'll expire you pretty maid milking your cow.