Frolicsome lady, or, The happy footman/The Maid of the Mill

The MAID of the MILL.

To Its own proper Tune.

I’Ve kiss'd and I’ve prattled to fifty fair maids,
and chang’d them as oft, d’ye see,
I’ve kiss’d, &c.
But of all the for maids that dance on the green.
The maid of the mill for me,
The maid of the mill, the maid of the mill,
The maid of the mill for me.

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

Her eyes are as black as the sloe on the hedge,
Her face like the blossoms in May,
Her eyes, &c.
Her teeth are as white as the new shorn flock,
Her breath like the new mown hay,
The new mown hay, the new mown hay,
Her breath like the new mown hay.

He’s tall and he’s straight as the poplar tree.
His checks are as red as a rose ;
He’s tall, &c.
He looks like a squire of a high degree,
When drest in his Sundays cloath's,
His Sundays claoth's, his Sundays cloath's.
When drest in his Sundays cloath's.