JENNY

When Jenny goes a milkin’ in the dewy time o’ morn I allays be contrivin’ to be callin’ at the farm, For her cheeks be red as roses an’ her hair like rippled corn, An’ I be fairly mazed to kiss the dimple on her arm.

When Jenny goes to Fairin’ with blue ribbons in her hair, I count the Queen of England never looks a half as sweet, An’ when she'm in the Country dance no other maids be there, For I never stops a glazin’ at the twinkle of her feet.

Jenny, Jenny, wo n't‘ ee let me love‘ ee? Aw —— But!!! When Jenny goes to Mittin’ House dressed in her Sunday clo'es She looks so like a hangell in her little pew apart,

That when I try to sing the hymns my throttle seems to close, An’ I cuss n't hear the sermon for the beatin’ of my heart. Jenny an’ me in the Kittereen Drove to Callington Fair;

There wasn’ much more than a foot between Jenny an’ me in the Kittereen For both of us was just thirteen, An’ of course us didn’ care.

Jenny an’ me in the Kittereen Drove from Callington Fair; There wasn’ much more than an inch between Jenny an’ me in the Kittereen

For both of us was just fifteen With a packet of pops to share. Jenny an’ me in the Kittereen Drove to Callington Fair;

There wasn’ much less than a yard between Jenny an’ me in the Kittereen For both of us was just seventeen An’ both knew the other was there.

Jenny an’ me in the Kittereen Drove from Callington Fair; There was very much less than an inch between Jenny an’ me in the Kittereen

For wasn’ we both of us turned nineteen? An’ wasn’ there Love to share?