John Cook he had a little grey mare,

Hee haw, hum;

Here legs were long and her back was bare,

Hee haw, hum!


John Cook was riding up Shooter?s Bank,

Hee haw, hum;

The mare she began to kick and to prank,

Hee haw, hum!


John Cook was riding up Shooter?s Hill,

Hee haw, hum;

His mare fell down and made her will,

Hee haw, hum!


The bridle and saddle were laid on the shelf,

Hee haw, hum;

If you want any more, you may sing it yourself,

Hee haw, hum!