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 I don’t understand what you mean, Sir, I’ve ne’er been a slave yet to love; Such ambers I seldom experienc'd, therefore your affections remove,

To marry, then I can assure you, is a thing that I can’t undergo, Therefore young man, pray excuse me,—— said the pretty maid milking her cow.

No young man could excuse you, or it would be against his own will; To pen your perfection in beauty some volumes I’m sure it would fill.

I would patiently wait for an answer, my destiny pray let me know; Your consent, till death, be the ransom, you pretty maid milking your cow.

I pray, Sir, withdraw, and don't teaze me I'll never consent unto thee; I like to live single and easy, till more of this world I see:

Lest care it should early embrace me, beside that my fortune is lowl; Until I grow rich. I'll not marry —— said the pretty maid milking her cow.

To say you will wait for a fortune, is a civil way to deny, And I have got money and cattle, dear love, all your wants to supply.