Yellow-hair'd laddie/Scold him I will

ON a fine summer morning when nature looks gay,
When the birds full of songs and the lambs full of play;
When the earth seems to answer and smiles from above,
Then all things declare it a season for love.

My mother cries Nancy, you must go to the mill,
If my corn be not ground, you may scold if you will:
Give me freedom to use my tongue, spare me no doubt,
For a woman, alas! can do nothing without.

The maid being ready, she bound on her way,
Repeating the words she determin'd to say;
And as she drew nigh the mill, behold she stood still,
Bless my stars, then she cry'd, scold him rarely I will.

The miller that instant to the market was gone,
And left all the charge of the mill to his son;
And although I could scold as well as many can,
I thought it a pity to scold the young man.

O Sir, what is the reason you've us'd me so ill?
I must have my corn ground, I must and I will.
But he answer'd the fair maid,the neglect's none of mine,
There's no corn in the mill I'll grind sooner than thine.

There being none so ready to answer the fair.
The miller is to work gone, I vow and declare;
But hark how the birds sing to sweet and so shrill,
I must have a kiss first, I must and I will.

The corn being ready, she bound on her way,
But he whisper'd her something of moment to stay,
And he offered to hand her all thro' the green meed.
And said, that he lov'd her indeed and indeed.