Z 277 The Miller's Daughter riding lyrics

The miller’s daughter riding to the fair

without a saddle, upon a scurvy mare,

Cried, ‘Oh mother, I’m quite undone,

I’m all o’ergrown with hair.’

‘Away you silly daughter,

tis every girl’s concern,

and if you won’t believe me,

look here and you may learn.’

Then taking her aside,

she made the matter plain.

‘Oh mother you’re ten times worse,

why sure you’ve rid upon the mane.’