Oh Polly love, oh Polly, the rout has now begun And 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 cruel wars in High Germany I fear the treacherous journey bitter cold and burning heat Rough roads and stony mountains they will wound my tender feet To your kinsmen I might prove untrue if from them I do go For maids must bide at their parents' side while the men do face the foe.
I'll buy for you a horse, my love, and on it you will ride Then all of my contentment shall be riding at my side We'll stop at every ale-house and drink when we are dry So quickly on the road, my love, and marry by and by Oh Billy love, oh Billy, now mind what I do say My feet they are so tired I cannot go away Besides, my dearest Billy, I am with child by thee Not fitting for the cruel wars in High Germany
Oh Polly love, oh Polly, I love you very well There are few in any place my Polly can excel And when your babe is born and sits smiling on your knee You will think on your Billy that's in High Germany Oh 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 likewise my brothers three And sent them to the cruel wars in High GermanyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
