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The Dawning of the Day 
The Dawning of the Day 
As I walked out one morning fair all in the month of June, Each bush and tree was decked in green and the flowers were in their bloom. Returning home all from a walk through a field I took my way; I chanced to see a pretty fair maid at the dawning of the day. 
No shoes or stockings, hat or cloak did that pretty fair maiden wear; Her hair in golden ringlets hung down o'er her shoulders fair. Two milking-pails were in her hands so jovial and so gay; She seemed to me like Venus fair at the dawning of the day. 
"O where are you going, my pretty fair maid? O where are you going so soon?" "I'm going a milking, sir," she said, "all in the month of June. Those pasture fields that I go to are so, so far away That I have to be there each morning fair at the dawning of the day" 
"O there's time enough, my pretty fair maid, suppose it were a mile. Come sit down on those primrose banks and chat with me awhile." "(O no, O no, replied this maid, "to that I can't obey. Look around, the skies are breaking clear, 'tis the dawning of the day" 
Those words she spoke. My arms entwined around her slender waist. I laid her on the primrose banks and her I did embrace. "Leave off your freedom, kind sir," she said, "and let me go my way. Look around, the sky is breaking clear, 'tis the dawning of the day" 
We arose, shook hands and parted, and I crossed o'er the way. In the course of seven months after, I met her on my way. She appeared to me quite dropsical as I crossed o'er the way, And carelessly I passed her by at the dawning of the day. 
The tears rolled down her lily-white cheeks and bitterly she did cry, "I hope you'll gain no credit, sir, by thus deluding me, That I may be a warning to all other maids so gay To never trust a lad they meet at the dawning of the day." 
"For to marry you, my pretty fair maid, 'tis a thing that cannot be. To join our hands in wedlock bonds, to that I can't agree, For I've been lately married to a girl from Bathly Bay, Of whom I gained ten thousand pounds, at the dawning of the day." 
The tears rolled down her lily-white cheeks and bitterly she did cry, 
"I hope you'll gain no credit, sir, by thus deluding me, That I may be a warning to all other maids so gay, To never trust a lad they meet at the dawning of the day." 
From Ballads and Sea Songs from Nova Scotia, Mackenzie Collected from Harry Sutherland DT #498 Laws P16 oct96