High Germany

Oh Polly love, oh Polly

The rout is now begun

And we must march away

At the beating of the drum

Oh dress yourself the fairest

And go along with me

I'll take you to the cruel wars

In high Germany

I fear the treacherous journey

But a cold and burning heat

Through frozen stony mountains

They will pretend to feed

To your kinsmen I might prove

And truly from no way to go

For maids must fight at their parents

And for the men we face the foe

I'll buy for you a horse my love

And on it you will ride

Then all of my contentment

Shall be riding at my side

We'll stop at every inn

And drink when we are dry

So quickly on the road

My love will marry by and by

Oh Billy love, oh Billy

Now mind what I do say

My feet they are so tired

I cannot go away

Besides my dearest Billy

I am a child by thee

Not fitting for the cruel wars

In high Germany

Oh Polly love, oh Polly

I love you very well

There are few in any place

My Polly can excel

And when your baby's born

And sits smiling on your knee

You will think of me, Billy

That's in high Germany

Oh cursed be the cruel wars

That ever they began

For they have pressed my Billy

And many a clever man

For they have pressed my Billy

And wives my brothers three

And sent them to the cruel wars

In high Germany