Here, I've written an instant 'old ballad' for the occasion. ;-D

The Young Woman from the Country

I was the child of a farmer brave
He worked himself to an early grave
Said I this farming's not for me
And I roved off to the grand citee

When I got there, what did I see
So many maids, but there's none like me
Around their waist you could set a ring
That round my throat would make me sing

Their hips are sharp as a well honed knife
No farmer lad would take these to wife
Such eely arms no calf could hold
No fruits could carry when they are sold

Their legs like twigs of the willow green
No muscle there that could be seen
How could such walk all the miles to town
When need there was, without falling down?

Above their thigh, no curve so round
No softness there could a lad have found
Their breasts so high as to meet their chin
No room for even a pretty pin.

But I so plump as a partridge brown
My legs so round push against my gown
Below my waist my hips do swell
And all the rest is round as well

Those maids did laugh when I wandered out
But mirth and scorn did not me rout
I stood up proud, and proud was I
And here's the reason, I'll tell you why

When I walked out to enjoy the park
Those city lads my progress mark
Though skin and bone their ladies be
Their longing eyes do follow me.