- 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, tho’ man and wife we be,
How am I fit for cruel wars in High Germany.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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