Oh, I would live in a dairy, br And its Colin I would be, br And many a rustic fairy br Should churn the milk with me. br br Or the fields should be my pleasure, br And my flocks should follow me, br Piping a frolic measure br For Joan or Marjorie. br br For the town is black and weary, br And I hate the London street; br But the country ways are cheery, br And country lanes are sweet. br br Good luck to you, Paris ladies! br Ye are over fine and nice br I know where the country maid is, br Who needs not asking twice. br br Ye are brave in your silks and satins, br As ye mince about the Town; br But her feet go free in pattens, br If she wear a russet gown. br br If she be not queen nor goddess br She shall milk my brown-eyed herds, br And the breasts beneath her bodice br Are whiter than her curds. br br So I will live in a dairy, br And its Colin I will be, br And its Joan that I will marry, br Or, haply, Marjorie.