As I was out a-walking in the merry month of May,
I saw a lusty milkmaid take a tumble in the hay,
And I called out, gentle maiden, what is it that you do?
And she looked right over at me, said, I'm doing a bit of woo.
What is this woo? I did reply, my hand being all a shake,
Why gentle sir, I'm sure you know, it's with your trouser snake,
Just stretch it out and limber up and come down where it's warm,
The bounce a bit to heat it up, I'm sure you know the form.
Just then my old wife came around and blustered in the byre,
And what's going on, my bonnie lad, you vile and dirty liar?
Why me and her were just about to carry out some woo,
Oh were you now, well that's a shame, because it won't be you!
And then she threw the milkmaid down and bounced her in the hay,
Oh bonnie lass, I want some woo, and you must surely pay,
Oh flash to me your milk-white orbs and downy clover patch,
And come to me at dead of night, I'll leave an open latch!
But Cecily, the milkmaid lass, she tossed her golden curls,
I'm sorry, my dear mistress fair, I don't do stuff with girls,
And then she took her milking pails without the least ado,
And we were left, all to ourselves, to make our own damned woo.
Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved