High Germany - Mervent

Oh Polly love, oh Polly, the rout has now begun

We must go a-marching to the beating of the drum

Dress yourself all in your best and come along with me

I’ll take you to the war, my love, in High Germany

Oh Willie love, oh Willie, come list what I do say

My feet they are so tender I cannot march away

And besides my dearest Willie 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 ale-house and drink when we are dry

We’ll be true to one another, get married by and by

Cursed be them 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 war, my love, 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 a-smiling on my knee

I’ll think of lovely Willie in High Germany