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Folk Song

X:1 T:High Germany C:Trad Z:Webmaster K: W:1 W:O Polly love, O Polly, the rout has now begun, W:And we must be a-marching at the beating of the drum; W:Go dress yourself all in your best and come along with me, W:I'll take you to the cruel wars in High Germany. W: W:2 W:O Harry love, O Harry you hearken what I say, W:My feet are all too tender I cannot march away; W:Besides my dearest Harry, tho' man and wife we be, W:How am I fit for cruel wars in High Germany? W: W:3 W:A horse I'll buy you dapple grey and on it you shall ride, W:And all my hearts delight will be a-trotting at your side; W:We'll ride o'er moor and mountain high, and breathe the air so free, W:And jauntily we'll ride along in High Germany. W: W:4 W:O no my love it may not be, I cannot with you ride, W:For I have hear my children dear, at home I must abide; W:But all my thoughts and many pray'rs shall be the while with thee, W:As thou dost fight Old England's wars in High Germany. W: W:5 W:O cursed are the cruel wars that ever they should rise, W:And out of merry England press many a lad likewise; W:They pressed my Harry from me as all my brothers three, W:And sent them to the cruel wars in High Germany % % % % %

					
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