I am an old man and I had but one cow,
And how I did lose her I cannot tell how,
White was her face, and slim was her tail,
You'd have thought my poor drimendroo never
could fail.

My drimendroo was meek, and mild as a bee,
She grew the fine milk to put in my tea;
She churned the fine butter to put on my bread,
You'd never have thought my poor drimendroo ne'er
would go dead

Oh! Why my drimendroo did you ever leave me?
I will get no more milk to put in my tea;
I stood by the river and wept like a stream;
She was like a dish of fresh strawberries smothered
in cream!