| It’s cold and raw the north winds blow
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| Black in the morning early
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| When all the hills were covered with snow
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| Oh then it was winter fairly
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| As I was riding o’er the moor
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| I met a farmer’s daughter
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| Her cherry cheeks and sloe-black hair
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| They caused my heart to falter
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| I bowed my bonnet very low
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| To let her know my meaning
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| She answered with a courteous smile
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| Her looks they were engaging
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| «Where are you bound, my pretty maid
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| It’s now in the morning early?»
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| The answer that she made to me
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| «Kind sir, to sell me barley»
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| «Now twenty guineas I’ve in my purse
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| And twenty more that’s yearly
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| You need not go to the market town
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| For I’ll buy all your barley
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| If twenty guineas would gain the heart
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| Of the maid I love so dearly
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| All for to tarry with me one night
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| And go home in the morning early»
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| As I was riding o’er the moor
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| The very evening after
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| It was my fortune for to meet
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| The farmer’s only daughter
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| Although the weather being cold and raw
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| With her I thought to parley
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| The answer then she made to me
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| «Kind sir, I’ve sold me barley» |