The Battle of the Boyn/The Milking Pail

by Anonymous

For other versions of this work, see The Milking Pail.

THE MILKING PAIL.

O'er half the sky the blushing dawn,
her purple vest had spread,
When Sally cross'd the dewy lava,
with milk-pail on her head.

Her brow as month of April sweet,
her cheeks were rosy red,
Her dress was white and lovely neat,
as milk-pail on her head.

While nymphs who breath the city air,
their mornings waste in bed
Young Sally sings as sky-Isrk clear,
with milk-pail on her bead.

Her slee-black eyes their lustre take,
from virtue only bred;
Her bosom ne'er felt conscious as he,
since milk-pail grac'd her head.

For comely dames I ne'er shall fret,
but ah! wonld Sally wed,
I'd bless the spot where first we met,
with milk-pail on her head.

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