The Milke-maids life:
OR,
A pretty new Ditty, Composed and pend,
The praise of the Milking paile to defend.
To a curious new tune called, The Milke-maids Dumps.
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YOu Rurall goddesses
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that woods and fields possesse
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Assist me with your skill,
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That may direct my quill
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more jocundly to expresse
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The mirth and delight,
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Both morning and night,
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on mountaine or in dale,
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Of them who chuse
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This trade to use,
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And through cold dewes
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Doe never refuse
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to carry the milking payle.
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The bravest Lasses gay,
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live not so merry as they,
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In honest civill sort,
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They make each other sport,
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as they trudge on their way:
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Come faire or foule weather
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Theyre fearefull of neither,
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their courages never quaile:
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In wet and dry
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Though winds be hye
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And darkes the sky,
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They nere deny
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to carry the milking paile.
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Their hearts are free from care,
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they never will despaire:
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What ever them befall,
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They bravely beare out all
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& Fortunes frowns out-dare.
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They pleasantly sing
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To welcome the spring,
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gainst heaven they never rayle:
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If grasse wel grow
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Their thankes they show,
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And frost or snow
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They merrily goe
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along with the milking paile.
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Base idlenesse they doe scorne,
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they rise very early ith morn,
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And walke into the field,
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Where pretty birds doe yeeld
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brave musick on every thorn.
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The Linet and Thrush
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Doe sing on each bush,
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and the dulcid Nightingale
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Her note doth straine
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In a jocund vaine,
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To entertaine
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That worthy traine
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which carry the milking paile.
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The second part To the same tune.
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THeir labor doth health preserve
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no Doctors rules they observe,
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While others too nice
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In taking their advice,
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look alwaies as though they wold starve,
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Their meat is digested,
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They nere are molested,
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no sicknesse doth them assaile:
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Their time is spent
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In merryment,
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While limbs are lent
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They are content
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to carry the milking paile.
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Those Lasses nice and strange,
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that keep shops in the Exchange
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Sit pricking of clouts,
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And giving of flouts,
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they seldome abroad doe range:
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Then comes the green sicknesse,
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And changeth their likenesse,
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all this is for want of good sale:
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But tis not so
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As proofe doth show
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By them that goe
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In frost and snow
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to carry the milking paile.
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If they any sweet-hearts have,
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that doe their affection crave,
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Their priviledge is this,
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Which many others misse,
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they can give them welcome brave
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With them they may walke,
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And pleasantly talke
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with a bottle of Wine or Ale:
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The gentle Cow
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Doth them allow
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As they know how,
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God speed the plow,
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and blesse the milking paile.
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Upon the first of May,
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with garlands fresh and gay,
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With mirth and musick sweet
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For such a season meet
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they passe their time away:
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They dance away sorrow,
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And all the day thorow,
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their legs doe never fayle:
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They nimblely
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Their feet doe ply,
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And bravely try
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The victory,
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in honour oth milking paile.
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If any thinke that I
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doe practice flattery,
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In seeking thus to raise
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The merry Milkmaids praise
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ile to them thus reply,
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It is their desert
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Inviteth my Art
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to study this pleasant tale,
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In their defence,
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Whose innocence
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And providence,
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Gets honest pence
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out of the milking paile. M.P.
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