High Germany

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

High Germany

Em b G d D g Em b x 2

 

Em E Maj g# Am e Em

 

Em G long D Em

 

V , ch all way through

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