Old Molly Metcalfe counting sheep
Yan tan tether mether pip she counted
Up upon Swaledale steep and bleak
Yan tan tether mether pip she said.
Grow little sheep come hail come snow
Yan tan tether mether pip she counted
Fine warm wool for a gentleman's shoulderblades
Yan tan tether mether pip she said.
Over the heather when the weather is cold
Yan tan tether mether pip she counted
Stiff Molly Metcalfe goes bow-leggedly
Yan tan tether mether pip she said.
Grow little sheep, come hail come rain
Yan tan tether mether pip she counted
Fine warm wool for a lady's counterpane,
Yan tan tether mether pip she said.
On her back in the bracken with frozen bones
Yan tan tether mether pip she counted
Daft Molly Metcalfe sings alone
Yan tan tether mether pip she said.
Grow little sheep, come death come dark
Yan tan tether mether pip she counted
No such wool for Old Molly Metcalfe,
Yan tan tether mether pip she said.