Oh, Where Are You Going?
Oh, where are you going,
My pretty maiden fair,
With your red rosy cheeks,
And your coal-black hair?
I’m going a-milking,
Kind sir, says she,
And it’s dabbling in the dew
Where you’ll find me.
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Oh, where are you going,
My pretty maiden fair,
With your red rosy cheeks,
And your coal-black hair?
I’m going a-milking,
Kind sir, says she,
And it’s dabbling in the dew
Where you’ll find me.