O Polly, love, O Polly, the rout has now begun
And we must be 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 cruel wars in High Germany.

O Harry, love, O Harry, you hearken what I say,
My feet are all too tender, I cannot march away,
Besides, my dearest Harry, though man and wife we be,
How am I fit for cruel wars in High Germany?


O cursed are the cruel wars that ever they should rise,
And out of merry England press many a lad likewise,
They pressed my Harry from me, as all my brothers three,
And sent them to the cruel wars in High Germany.

abc | midi | pdf

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Source: Singing Together, Autumn 1966, BBC Publications

Notes:


Roud: 1445 (Search Roud index at VWML) Take Six
Laws:
Child: