Turn, turn, for my cheeks they burn,
Turn by the dale, my Harry!
Fill pail, fill pail,
He has turned by the dale,
And there by the stile waits Harry.
Fill, fill,
Fill pail, fill,
For there by the stile waits Harry!
The world may go round, the world may stand still,
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can...
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A Milkmaid, who poised a full pail on her head,
Thus mused on her prospects in life, it is said:
“Let me see,—I should think that this milk will procure
One hundred good eggs, or fourscore, to be sure.“Well then,—stop a bit,—it must not be forgotten,
Some of these may be broken, and some may be rotten;
But if twenty for accident should be...