Roving in the dew

"Where are you going to, my pretty fair maid,

Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"

"I'm going a milking, kind sir," she answered me,

"For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."

"What is your father then, my pretty fair maid,

Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"

"My father's a farmer, kind sir," she answered me,

"For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."

"What is your mother then, my pretty fair maid,

Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"

"The wife of my father, kind sir," she answered me,

"For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."

"May I come along with you, my pretty fair maid,

Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"

"Just as it please you, kind sir," she answered me,

"For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."

"Suppose I ran away from you, my pretty fair maid,

Red rosy cheeks and coal-black hair?"

"The devil may run after you, I will stand and laugh at you,

For roving in the dew makes the milk-maids fair."