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.
Singing Together, Autumn 1966, BBC Publications
(Search Roud index at VWML) Take Six