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(Trad) |
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Oh Polly love, oh Polly the rout has now begun
And we must go a marching at the beating of the drum
Go dress yourself all in your best and come along with me
I'll take you to the war me love in High Germany
Oh Willy love, oh Willy come list to what I say
My feet they are so tender, I can not march away
And besides my dearest Willy I am with child by thee
Not fitted for the war me love in High Germany
I'll buy for you a horse me love and on it you shall ride
And all my life I'll be there riding by your side
We'll stop at every ale-house and drink when we are dry
We'll be true to one another, get married bye and bye
Oh cursed be the cruel wars that ever they should rise
And out of merry England press many a man likewise
They pressed my true love from me, likewise my brothers three
And sent them to the wars me lad in High Germany
My friends I do not value nor my foes I do not fear
Now my love has left me I wander far and near
And when my baby it is born and smiling on my knee
I'll think of lovely Willy in High Germany
Oh Polly love, oh Polly the rout has now begun
And we must go a marching at the beating of the drum
Go dress yourself all in your best and come along with me
I'll take you to the war me love in High Germany |
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