For comparison, here are the Opies' "Where Are You Going" quoted above and the DT's version of "Dabbling in the Dew".

Perhaps this deserves a thread of its own.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING, MY PRETTY MAID

Whither are you going my pretty fair maid, said he,
With your white face and your yellow hair?
I am going to the well, sweet sir, she said,
For Strawberry leaves make maidens fair.

Shall I go with thee pretty fair maid, he said, &c
Do if you will, sweet sir, she said, &c.

What if I lay you down on the ground, &c.
I will rise up again, sweet Sir, she said, &c.

What if I do bring you with child, &c.
I will bear it, sweet Sir she said, &c.

Who will you have for father for your child, &c.
You shall be his father, sweet Sir, she said, &c.

What will you dor for whittles for your child, &c.
His father shall be a taylor, sweet Sir, she said, &c.


DABBLING IN THE DEW

Oh, where are you going to, my pretty little dear
With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
I'm going a-milking, kind sir, she answered me
And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.

Oh, may I go with you, my pretty little dear,
With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
Oh, you may go with me, kind sir, she answered me,
And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.

And what is your father, my pretty little dear,
With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
My father's a farmer, kind sir, she answered me,
And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.

And what is your mother, my pretty little dear,
With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair:
My mother's a dairymaid, kind sir, she answered me,
And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.

If I should chance to kiss you, my pretty little dear,
With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
The wind may take it off again, kind sir, she answered me,
And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.

Oh say, will you marry me, my pretty little dear,
With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair:
Oh yes, if you please, kind sir, she answered me,
And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.

Oh, will you be constant, my pretty little dear,
With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair?
Oh, that I cannot promise you, kind sir, she answered me,
And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.

Then I won't marry you, my pretty little dear,
With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair.
Oh, nobody asked you, kind sir, she answered me,
And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair.