The squire and his sister were a-sitting in the hall;
A-singing together they heard someone call.
As they were a-singing their morning song,
Pretty Betsy the milkmaid came trippling along.

"Do you want any milk, sir?", pretty Betsy she cried.
"O yes", said the squire, "walk in, pretty maid.
O you are the fair creature that I do adore --
So be my true lover as never before."

"O, hold your tongue, squire, and let me go free;
Don't make such a game of my poverty.
There's ladies of honour more fitting for you
Than I, a poor milkmaid brought up to my cow."

Then a ring from his finger he instantly drew;
And right in the middle he broke it in two.
One part he gave to her, as I have been told --
And they both walked together in Blackberry Fold.

Then the parson was sent for, the couple to wed;
That they might enjoy their sweet marriage bed.
He made her a lady, and his wife to adore --
He married that damsel although she was poor.