Published in Danby's Third Collection of Catches, Canons and Glees, 1796.

Lyrics: Thomas D'Urfey

Ye nymphs and sylvan gods,
That love green fields and woods,
When spring newly-born herself loves to adorn
With flowers and blooming buds:
In cheerful lays let us sing in the praise,
Amidst the pleasant vale,
Of those that choose their sleep to lose,
And in cold dews, with clouted shoes,
Still carry the milking-pail.

When cold bleak winds loud roar,
And flowers spring no more,
The fields lately seen so pleasant and green,
By winter all candied o'er.
See how the town-lass looks with her white face,
And her lips so deadly pale.
But it is not so with those that go
Thro' frost and snow, with cheeks that glow,
To carry the milking-pail.

The miss of courtly mould,
Adorned with pearl and gold,
With washes and paint her skin does so taint,
She's withered before she's old:
While she of commode puts on a cart-load,
And while cushions swell her tail.
What joys are found in russet gown,
Young, plump, and round, and sweet and sound,
Along with the milking-pail.