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High Germany
by
Luke Kelly
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Oh Polly, love, oh Polly, the rout has now begun And we must go 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 war, me love, in High Germany Oh Willy, love, oh Willy, come list' what I do say My feet they are so tender, I cannot march away And besides, my dearest Willy, I am with child by thee Not fitted for the war, me love, in High Germany I'll buy for you a horse, me love, and on it you shall ride And all my delight shall be in, riding by your side We'll stop at every alehouse and drink when we are dry We'll be true to one another, get married bye and bye Oh, cursed be them cruel wars that ever they should rise And out of merry England press many a man likewise They pressed my true love from me, likewise my brothers three And sent them to the wars, me love, in High Germany Me friends I do not value nor me foes I do not fear Now me love has left me, I wander far and near And when me baby it is born and smiling on me knee I'll think of lovely Willy in High Germany Oh Polly, love, oh Polly, the rout has now begun And we must go 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 war, me love, in High Germany
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