O Polly, O Polly, the rout has now begun
And we must go a marching to the beating of a drum
Go dress yourself all in your best and come along with me
I'll take you to the wars my love, in High Germany

O Willie love, O Willie, come list what I do say
My feet they are so tender, I cannot march away
Besides my dearest WIllie I am with child by thee
Not fit to go to wars my love in High Germany

I'll find for you a horse my love and on it we will ride
And all my life I'll be there riding by your side
We'll stop at every ale house and drink when we are dry
Be true to one another love, be married by and by

A cursed be them cruel wars that ever should arise
And now that merry England takes many a man likewise
They pressed my true love from me, likewise my brothers three
And sent them to the wars my love, in high Germany

My friends I do not value, my soul I do not fear
And now my love has left me, I'll wander far and near
When my baby it is born and smiling on my knee
I'll think of lovely Willie in High Germany