The Country-mans Lamentation for the Death of His Cow

Little Tom Dogget,
what dost thou mean,
To kill thy poor Colly,
now she's so lean:

Sing, Oh poor Colly;
Colly my Cow;
For Colly will give me
no more milk now.
Pruh high, pruh hoe;
Pruh high, pruh hoe,
Pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh,
Tal val daw,

I had better have kept her,
till fatter she had been,
For now I confess
she's a little too lean:

Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.

First in comes the Tanner,
with his Sword by his side;
And he bids me five Shillings,
for my Cows hide:

Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the Tallow-chandler,
whose brains were but shallow,
And he bids me two and Six-pence,
for my Cows Tallow:

Sing, Oh poor Colly,
Colly my Cow,
For Colly will give me
no more milk now:
Pruh high, pruh hoe,
Pruh high, and pruh hoe,
Sing, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh pruh,
Tal dal daw.

Then in comes the Huntsman,
so early in the morn,
He bid me a Penny
for my Cows horn:

Sing, Oh poor Colly,
Colly my Cow:
For Colly will give me
no more milk now:
Pruh high, pruh hoe,
Pruh high, and pruh hoe,
Sing, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, Pruh
Tal dal daw.

Then in comes the Tripe-woman,
so fine and so neat,
She bid me three-half-pence
for my Cows feet:

Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.

Then in comes the Butcher,
that nimble, tongu'd youth:
Who said she was Carrion,
but he spoke not the truth:

Sing, O poor Colly, &c.

This Cow had a skin,
was as soft as the silk,
And three times a day,
my poor Cow would give milk:

Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.

She every year,
a sine Calf did me bring,
Which fetcht me a pound,
for it came in the Spring:
Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.

But now I have kill'd her,
I can't her recall:
I will sell my poor Colly,
Hide, Horns, and all:

Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.

The Butcher shall have her,
though he gives but a pound:
And he knows in his heart,
that my Colly was sound:

Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.

And when he has bought her,
let him sell all together,
The flesh for to eat,
and the hide for Leather.

Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.

Some say i'm a Cuckold,
but i'le swear I am none,
For how can it be,
now my horns are gone.

Sing, Oh poor Colly, &c.