CHORUS: The higher up the cherry tree The riper grows the berry;
The more you hug and kiss the girls The sooner they will marry.

Over the hill to feed my sheep And over the river to Charley
Over the river to feed my sheep On buckwheat cake and barley.

How old are you, my pretty little Miss? How old are you, my honey?
She answered me with a "Ha, ha" laugh,"I'll be sixteen next Sunday."

Where do you live, my pretty little Miss? Where do you live, my honey?
She answered me with a sweet to be, "In the loom house with my mammy."

Run along, my pretty little Miss, Run along home, my honey,
Run along home, my pretty little Miss, I'll be right there next Sunday.

Papa's gone to New York town, Mamma's gone to Dover,
Sister's wore her slippers out A-kicking Charley over.

Take her by the lily-white hand, And lead her like a pigeon;
Make her dance the Weevily Wheat Till she loses her religion.