Classic Poem

How sweet the winds o' evening comes through the ash tree bough[s]
How sweet the Milkmaids soothing voice is calling up her cows
The bat is wheeling round the Oak the white moth round the thorn
And the lark is dropping to her nest i' the outside lands o corn
The blue haze deepens wi' the green the sun sets i' the gap
The blue lift is the selfsame hue o Besseys bonny cap
As she sits singing to herself upon her milking stool
Beneath the oaks and willows by the old Pond i' the cool.

O bonny is the milkmaid that sings beneath the shade
O lovely is the wild rose cheek o' the bonny milking maid
Her eyes turn on the cowslips so lovely to behold
She thinks them like her ear rings rich pendant drops o Gold
The Lilys o the valleys and you might fill a peck
Is not so white as underneath her kerchief is her neck
The daisy's and the pileworts they make a garden show
Where the Maiden sits a milking by the thorn tree white as snow.

What time beneath its crimson bank the Orange setting sun
Sinks in the world o' spirits and leaves the earth i' dun
The happy milking maiden wi her well scoured milking Pail
Goes tripping down the Village street and singing down the Vale
The pendant golden cowslips keep tapping at her gown
She's minding where to set her feet and winna break them down
And I'll bestir myself and my hoe I'll strive to hide
And gang to meet the milking maid down our burn side.