A story, a sad one,  I'll tell you just now,
It's all about selling of Colly, my cow.

Said little Tom Tinker, "Pray, what do you mean,
By selling your Colly when she is so lean?"

Then came the old tanner with whip at his side;
He bid me three shillings for Colly, my pride.

The skin of my Colly was softer than silk;
And three times a day did my Colly give milk.

The sound of her mooing was sweet and so low;
And how I do miss her you never shall know.

Then good-bye, dear Colly, she's gone past recall; 
She's sold to the tanner, her horns, head, and all.