High Germany Songtext
von Broom Bezzums

Oh Polly love, oh Polly
The route has now begun
And we must march away
At the beating of the drum
Come dress yourself all in your best
Go along with me
I′ll take you to the cruel wars in High Germany

I fear the treacherous journey
Bitter cold and burning heat
Rough roads and stony mountains
Will wound my tender feet
To your kinsmen I might prove untrue
If from them I do go
For maids must bide by their parents' side
While the men do face the foe


I′ll buy for you a horse, my love
And on it you shall ride
And all of my contentment
Will be riding by my side
We'll stop at every alehouse
And drink when we are dry
And quickly on the road, my love
We'll marry by and by

Oh Billy love, oh Billy
Mind well what I do say
My feet they are so tired
I cannot march away
And besides, my dearest Billy
I am with child by thee
Not fitted for the cruel wars in High Germany

Oh Polly love, oh Polly
I love thee very well
There are few in this world
My Polly can excel
And when your baby′s born
Sits smiling on your knee
You′ll think on your Billy
Who's in High Germany


Oh cursed be the cruel wars
That ever they began
And out of merry England
Pressed many a canny man
They took my true love from me
Likewise my brothers three
And sent them to the cruel wars in High Germany