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Oliver Cromwell

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.

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Oliver Cromwell / Сара Брайтман

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