%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The country-mans lamentation for the death of his cow / A Country Swain of little wit one day, / Did kill his Cow because she went astray: / What's that to I or you, she was his own, / But now the Ass for his Cow doth moan: / Most pineously methink he cries in vain, / For now his Cow,s free from hunger, and pain: / What ails the fool to make so great o stir, / She cannot come to him, he may to her. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1678-1678 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/18/2011 30549

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R213996 2 a pleasant Country Tune UNKNOWN A Pleasant Country Tune Colly my Cow UNKNOWN Colly My Cow LIttle Tom Dogget, / what doth thou mean, Sing, Oh poor Colly; / Colly my Cow; / For Colly will give me / no more milk now. Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 78 2: 79 The country-mans lamentation for the death of his cow / A Country Swain of little wit one day, / Did kill his Cow because she went astray: / What's that to I or you, she was his own, / But now the Ass for his Cow doth moan: / Most pineously methink he cries in vain, / For now his Cow,s free from hunger, and pain: / What ails the fool to make so great o stir, / She cannot come to him, he may to her. The country-mans lamentation for the death of his cow. A Country Swain of little wit one day, Did kill his Cow because she went astray: What’s that to I or you, she was his own, But now the Ass for his Cow doth moan: Most pineously methink he cries in vain, For now his Cow,s free from hunger, and pain: What ails the fool to make so great o stir, She cannot come to him, he may to her. The country man's lamentation for the death of his cow. A country swain of little wit one day, did kill his cow because she went astray: What's that to I or you, she was his own, but now the ass for his cow doth moan: Most piteously methinks he cries in vain, for now his cow's free from hunger, and pain: what ails the fool to make so great a stir, she cannot come to him, he may to her. 1678-1678 C. Passinger

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/18/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America animals/ nature death economics/ commerce rural life Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/18/2011 1:18:55 PM XBallad Shaughnessy, Elizabeth Created XML Version of Ballad 4/18/2011 1:18:55 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 1:18:55 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 1:18:55 PM Transcriptionist Two Mann, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 1:18:55 PM Transcriptionist One Ludolph, Patrick Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/1/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/24/2010 Checker Charlotte Becker Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/6/2008 Bibliographer General Admin Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/6/2008 Checker General Admin Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/6/2008 Checker General Admin Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/6/2008 Checker General Admin Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/13/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/10/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The country-mans lamentation for the death of his <hi rend="bold">cow</hi>.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A Country Swain of little wit one day,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Did kill his Cow because she went astray:Whats that to I or you, she was his own,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">But now the Ass for his Cow doth moan:</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Most pineously methink he cries in vain,</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">For now his Cow,s free from hunger, and pain:What ails the fool to make so great o stir,</hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">She cannot come to him, he may to her.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">T</hi>o a pleasant Country <hi rend="bold">T</hi>une, called,</hi> Colly my Cow.</seg>
LIttle Tom Dogget, what dost thou mean, To kill thy poor Colly, now shes so lean: Sing, Oh poor Colly; Colly my Cow; For Colly will give me no more milk now. Pruh high, pruh hoe; Pruh high, pruh hoe, Pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, Tal dal daw. I had better have kept her, till fatter she had been, For now I confess shes a little too lean: Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc.
First in comes the Tanner, with his Sword by his side; And he bids me five Shillings, for my Cows hide:Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc. Then in comes the Tallow-chandler, whose brains were but shallow, And he bids me two and Six-pence, for my Cows Tallow:Sing, Oh poor Colly, Colly my Cow, For Colly will give me no more milk now: Pruh high, pruh hoe, Pruh high, and pruh hoe, Sing, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh pruh, Tal dal daw.
THen in comes the Huntsman, so early in the morn, He bid me a Penny for my Cows horn:Sing, Oh poor Colly, Colly my Cow: For Colly will give me no more misk now: Pruh high, pruh hoe, Pruh high, and pruh hoe, Sing, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, Pruh Tal dal daw. Then in comes the Tripe-woman, so fine and so neat, She bid me three-half-pence for my Cows feet: Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc. Then in comes the Butcher, that nimble-tongud youth: Who said she was Carrion, but he spoke not the truth: Sing, O poor Colly, etc. This Cow had a skin, was as soft as the silk, And three times a day, my poor Cow would give milk: Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc.
She every year, a fine Calf did me bring, Which fetcht me a pound, for it came in the Spring: Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc. But now I have killd her, I cant her recall:I will sell my poor Colly, Hide, Horns, and all: Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc. The Butcher shall have her, though he gives but a pound:And he knows in his heart, that my Colly was sound: Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc. And when he has bought her, let him sell all together, The flesh for to eat, and the hide for Leather. Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc. Some say im a Cuckold, but ile swear I am none, For how can it be, now my horns are gone. Sing, Oh poor Colly, etc.
FINIS. Printed for C. Passinger, at the seven stars in the new Buildings, on London-bridge.