The Maid of the Mill

I've kiss and I've prattled with fifty fair maids, And chang'd them as oft do ye see; But of all the fair maidens that dance on the green The maid of the mill for me.

There's fifty young men have told me fine tales, And call'd me the fairest she; But of all the gay youths that sport on the green, Young Harry's the lad for me.

Her eyes are as black as the sloe in the hedge, Her face like the blossoms in May, Her teeth are as white as the new shorn flock, Her breath like the new made hay.

He's tall and he's straight as the poplar tree, His cheeks are as fresh as a rose; He looks like a squire of high degree When drest in his Sunday's clothes.