Polly, dearest Polly The war is now begun And I must ride away At the beating of the drum Come dress yourself All in your best Come go along with me I will take you To the cruel wars In Higher Germanie Oh Harry, dearest Harry Mind what I do say My feet they are so tired I cannot go away Besides, my dearest Harry Though I'm in love with thee I am not fit for cruel wars In Higher Germanie I'll buy for you a horse, my love And on it you shall ride And all of my contentment Shall be rarching by your side We'll stop at every alehouse And drink when we are dry So quickly on the road, my love We will marry by and by Oh cursed be those cruel wars That ever they should rise And out of Merry England Take many a lad likewise They took my dearest Harry Also his brothers three And sent them to the cruel wars In Higher Germanie