High Germany

Oh Polly love, oh Polly, the road 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 my love in High Germany

Oh Willy love, oh Willy, come list' what I do say
My feet they are so tender, I cannot march away
And besides my dearest Willy I am with child by thee
Not fitted for the war my love in High Germany

I'll buy for you a horse my love, and on it you shall ride
And all my delight shall be in riding by your side
We'll stop at every alehouse and drink when we are dry
We'll be true to one another, get married by and by

Oh cursed be them cruel war 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 war my love in High Germany

(music and lyrics: trad. Irish, 18th century)

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