| It was on a fine summer’s morning
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| The birds sweetly tune on each bough
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| And as I walked out for my pleasure
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| I saw a maid milking a cow
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| Her voice was so enchanting, melodious
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| Left me quite unable to go My heart, it was loaded with sorrow
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| For the pretty maid milking her cow
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| Then to her I made my advances
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| «Good morrow most beautiful maid
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| Your beauty my heart so entrances»
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| «Pray sir do not banter,"she said
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| «I'm not such a rare precious jewel
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| That I should enamour you so I am but a poor little milk girl,»
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| Says the pretty maid milking her cow
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| The Indies afford no such jewel
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| So bright, so transparently clear
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| I do not add things to my funeral
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| Consent but to know me my dear
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| Oh, had I the Lamp of Aladdin
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| Or the wealth that gold mines can bestow
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| I’d rather be poor in a cottage
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| With the pretty girl milking her cow. |