Anonymous British

Dabbling in the Dew

Oh, where are you going to, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? I’m going a-milking, kind sir, she answered me: And it’s dabbling in the dew makes the milk maids fair! Suppose I were to clothe you, my pretty little dear, In a green silken gown and amethyst rare? O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me, For it’s dabbling in the dew makes the milk maids fair! Suppose I were to carry you, my pretty little dear, In a chariot with horses, a grey gallant pair? O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me, For it’s dabbling in the dew makes the milk maids fair! Suppose I were to feast you, my pretty little dear, With dainties on silver, the whole of the year? O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me, For it’s dabbling in the dew makes the milk maids fair! O but London’s a city, my pretty little dear, And all men are gallant and brave that are there— O no, sir, O no, sir, kind sir, she answered me, For it’s dabbling in the dew makes the milk maids fair! O fine clothes and dainties and carriages so rare Bring grey to the cheeks and silver to the hair; What’s a ring on the finger when rings are round the eye? But it’s dabbling the dew makes the milk maids fair! — Anonymous ballad (see note*) *This anonymous ballad was taken from Walter de la Mare’s book, COME HITHER - A Collection of RHYMES and POEMS for the Young of All Ages . Elsewhere on the Internet, it can be found set to tunes, and it’s one of those ballads that easily attracts additional verses, but I assume Mr. de la Mare tried to find and record the original.