An Excellent New Play-House Song, Call'd
THE BONNY
MILK-MAIDS.
To an Excellent New Tune much in Request.
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YE Nimpth and Silvian Gods,
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That loves Green Fields and Woods
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When Spring's newly blown,
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Her self does adorn,
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With Flowers and blooming Buds,
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Come sing in the praise,
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(Whilst Flocks do graze
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In yonder pleasant Vale)
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Of those that choose,
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Their sleep to loose,
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And in cold Dews
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with clouted shoes,
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Do carry the Milking Pail
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The Goddess of the Morn,
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With blushes they adorn,
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And take the fresh Air,
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Whilst Linnets prepare,
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A Consort on each green Thorn,
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The Black-bird and Trush,
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On every bush,
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And the charming Nightingal,
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In merry vein,
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Their throats do strain,
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To entertain
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The jolly Train,
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That carry the Milking-Pail.
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When cold black Winds do roar
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And Flowers can spring no more,
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The Fields that were seen,
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So pleasant and Green,
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By Winter all Candid o're
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Oh how the Town Lass,
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Look's with her white face,
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And her Lips of a deadly pale,
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But it is not so
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With those that go.
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Thro' Frost and Snow,
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With Cheeks that glow,
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To cary the Milking Pale.
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The Miss of courtly mold,
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Adorn'd with Pearl and Gold
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With Washes and Paint,
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Her Skin does so taint,
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She's weather'd before she's old,
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Whilst she in commode,
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Puts on a Cartload,
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& with cushions plumps her tail,
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What joys are found,
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In Russet Gown,
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Young, plump, and round,
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And sweet and sound,
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That cary the Milking Pail
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The Girls of Venus Game
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That ventures Health and Fame,
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In practising feats,
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With colds and with heats,
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Make Lovers go blind and lame,
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If men were so Wise,
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To value the prize,
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Of the Wares most fit for Sale,
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What store of Beaus,
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Would daubt their cloaths,
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To save a Nose,
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By following those,
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That cary the Milking Pail.
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The Country Lad is free,
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From fear and Jealousie,
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When upon the Green,
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He is often seen
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With his lass upon his knee,
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With Kisses most sweet
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He does her Treat,
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& swears she shall ne'er grow stale,
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Whilst the London Lass,
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In e'ery Place,
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With her brazen Face,
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Despises the Grace,
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Of those with the Milking Pail.
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