HIGH GERMANY

Oh Polly, oh Polly, the rout has begun
And we must march along to the beating of the drum,
Go dress yourself all in your best and come along with me,
I'll take you to the war that's in High Germany.

Oh Harry, Oh Harry, you mind what I do say,
My feet they are so tender I cannot march away;
And besides my dearest Harry I am in love with thee,
I'm not fitted to the cruel wars in high Germany.

I'll buy you a horse my love and on it you shall ride,
And all my delight shall be riding by your side;
We'll call at every ale house and drink when we are dry
So quickly on the road my boys, we'll marry by and by.

O cursed were the cruel wars that ever they should rise,
And out of merry England pressed many a lad likewise;
They pressed young Harry from me, likewise my brothers three
And sent them to the cruel wars in High Germany.



Handwritten notes at bottom of page:

Another song which was orginally English, but
having a universal theme it has spread far.
One American variant changed the action all-
together, with being a tridlogue between a
girl, her mother, and her lover who is already married
and asks her to come with him "Across the
Blue Mountains to the Allegheny".

Transcribed on June 24, 2000 by T. M. Carlsen
Notes from transcriber: spelling and punctuation as in original.
Handwritten notes on bottom of page difficult to read.
In the upper right a hand-written T on original.
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