Two little maids went roaming, roaming,
All in the fields alone.
"Suppose that a boy were coming, coming,
Over the fields," said one, said one,
To the other little maid said one.
Then the second little maid fell dreaming, dreaming.
"He'll bring me a rose," said she.
"He won't! You are always scheming, scheming,
As horrid as you can be!" Dear me!
As horrid as she could be.