O where and O where is our Dairymaid gone?
O where, O where can she be?
With her skirts cut short and her hair cut long,
O where, and O where is she?
Well, Summer is gone, and so is the Sun,
And farming is nought but a bilk.
When our Butter is Dutch, and our Cheese is Yank,
Why, why should they leave us our Milk?
Our brave Queen BESS, as the Laureate says,[1]
Might wish that a milkmaid were she;