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!

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