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SHE WAS A MAID

She was a maid of the dairy,
I ploughed the fields with a team of four;
I loved in a field of hay,
She shuddered once and asked for more.

She was the keeper of the lambs,
I ploughed the fields with a team of four;
I loved her in a field of rye,
She shuddered twice and asked for more.

She was a wife with golden hair,
I brought her peaches and pears to eat;
I loved her one day under a tree,
She shuddered thrice and asked for more.

Now she is old and silver her hair,
I plough the fields with a team of four;
I love her as she breathes my name,
"I am dying," she says,
"I shall want no more."

      — Don Taylor