O Polly love o Polly, the rout it is begun We must march away at the beating of the drum Go dress yourself in all your best and come along with me I’ll take you to the war my love in High Germany
O Billy dearest Billy, now mind what you do say My feet they are so tender I cannot march away Besides my dearest Billy I and with child by thee Not fitting for the war my love in High Germany
O Polly love o Polly I love you very well There are few in any place my Polly can excel When your baby’s born and sits a-smiling on your knee You’ll think upon your Billy that’s in High Germany
Cursed be the cruel wars that ever they began For they have pressed my Billy and many a clever man For they have pressed my Billy and all my brothers three And sent them to the cruel wars in High Germany