So, dearest Polly, the war it has begun
And I must march along by the beating of the drum
Come dress yourself all in your best and sail away with me;
I'll take you to the wars, my love, in Higher Germanie

I'll buy Polly a pony and on it she shall ride
I'll buy Polly a pony to ride all by my side
We'll stop at every alehouse and drink when we get dry
We'll be true to one each other and marry by and by

It's when I get to Plymouth town, a bed for you I'll have
That shall be covered in roses and the roses shall be red
So when your baby it is born and smiling on your knee
You will think of lovely Will, love, in Higher Germanie

Oh, cursed are the cruel wars that ever they should rise
And out of Merry England press many a lad likewise
They took my husband from me and all my brothers three
And they sent them to the cruel wars in Higher Germanie