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