Oliver cromwell lay buried and dead,
Hee-haw, buried and dead,
There grew an old apple-tree over his head,
Hee-haw, over his head.

The apples were ripe and ready to fall,
Hee-haw, ready to fall,
There came an old woman to gather them all,
Hee-haw, gather them all.

Oliver rose and gave her a drop,
Hee-haw, gave her a drop,
Which made the old woman go hippety hop,
Hee-haw, hippety hop.

The saddle and bridle, they lie on the shelf,
Hee-haw, lie on the shelf,
If you want any more your can sing it yourself,
Hee-haw, sing it yourself.

• Come You Not from Newcastle?
• Dear Harp of My Country!
• Early One Morning
• Fileuse
• How Sweet The Answer
• La Belle Est Au Jardin D'amour
• Little Sir William
• O Can Ye Sew Cushions?
• O Waly, Waly
• Oft in The Stilly Night
• Oliver Cromwell
• Quand J'йtais Chez Mon Pиre
• Sweet Polly Oliver
• The Ash Grove
• The Last Rose of Summer
• The Plough Boy
• The Trees They Grow So High
• There's None to Soothe
• Voici Le Printemps