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High Germany

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  1. 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.
  2. O Harry love, O Harry you hearken what I say,
    My feet are all too tender I cannot march away;
    Besides my dearest Harry, tho’ man and wife we be,
    How am I fit for cruel wars in High Germany.
  3. A horse I’ll buy you dapple gray and on it you shall ride,
    And all my hearts delight will be a-trotting at your side;
    We’ll ride o’er moor and moutain high, and breathe the air so free,
    And jauntily we’ll ride along in High Germany.
  4. O no my love it may not be, I cannot with you ride,
    For I have hear my children dear, at home I must abide;
    But all my thoughts and many pray’rs shall be the while with thee,
    As thou dost fight Old England’s wars in High Germany.
  5. 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.

From the collection Songs From Hazzards Huzzah