X:1
T:Dabbling in the Dew
B:One Hundred English Folksongs, Ed C Sharp, ISBN 0-486-23192-5
Z:Cecil Sharp
F:http://www.folkinfo.org/songs
M:4/4
L:1/8
K:F
D |D2 D E F F E E |D C D E D2
w:O where are you go-ing to, my pre-ty lit-tle dear,
E E |F2 E E D2 c c | d2 c2 A3
w: With your red ro-sy cheeks, and your coal-black hair
A |d2 c B c2 A G |A F E D C2
w:I'm go-ing a-milk-ing, kind sir, she an-swer'd me,
E E |F D c B A2 A3/2 G/ |A2 D2 D2  |]
w: And it's dab-bling in the dew makes the milk-maids fair
W:Oh, where are you going to, my pretty little dear
W:    With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
W:I'm going a-milking, kind sir, she answered me
W:    And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.
W:
W:Oh, may I go with you, my pretty little dear,
W:    With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
W:Oh, you may go with me, kind sir, she answered me,
W:    And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.
W:
W:And what is your father, my pretty little dear,
W:    With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
W:My father's a farmer, kind sir, she answered me,
W:   And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.
W:
W:And what is your mother, my pretty little dear,
W:    With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair:
W:My mother's a dairymaid, kind sir, she answered me,
W:    And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.
W:
W:If I should chance to kiss you, my pretty little dear,
W:    With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
W:The wind may take it off again, kind sir, she answered me,
W:    And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.
W:
W:Oh say, will you marry me, my pretty little dear,
W:    With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair:
W:Oh yes, if you please, kind sir, she answered me,
W:    And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.
W:
W:Oh, will you be constant, my pretty little dear,
W:    With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
W:Oh, that I cannot promise you, kind sir, she answered me,
W:    And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.
W:
W:Then I won't marry you, my pretty little dear,
W:    With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair.
W:Oh, nobody asked you, kind sir, she answered me,
W:    And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.