There once was a milkmaid with hair like spun silk,
On whose pretty curls sat a pitcher of milk.
She was travelling to market her good milk to sell,
But her journey that morning didn't bode well.
A more daydreaming girl you never would find,
And more often than not it was wealth on her mind.
The problem of course was achieving her aim
But her prospects were poor, and such was her shame!
“I’ll surely be rich from the milk that I trade,”
Were the words in the head of this silly young maid.
“I’ll buy satin and silk, and such wonderful shoes!
Well, with money, I’ll buy just whatever I choose!”
Her heart was uplifted and so were her feet.
With a bounce of delight she leapt up from the street.
The pitcher went flying and hit the hard ground
And a good telling off was all that she found.
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