Tradycyjne - Colly my 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.

Oh, if I have killed her
I can't her recall;
I will sell my poor Colly,
Hide, horns, and all.

Sing, oh poor Colly,
Colly, my cow;
For Colly will give me
No more milk now.

Now in comes the tanner,
His sword by his side,
He bids me five shillings
For my poor cow's hide.

Sing, oh poor Colly,
Colly, my cow;
For Colly will give me
No more milk now.

And in comes the huntsman
So early at morn,
He bids me a penny
For my poor cow's horn.

Sing, oh poor Colly,
Colly, my cow;
For Colly will give me
No more milk now.

Poor Colly each year
A fine calf did me bring,
Which fetched me a pound,
For it came in the spring.

Sing, oh poor Colly,
Colly, my cow;
For Colly will give me
No more milk now.

The skin of my cowly
Was softer than silk,
And three times a day
My poor cow would give milk.

Sing, oh poor Colly,
Colly, my cow;
For Colly will give me
No more milk now.