Classic Poem

"O Polly, my dear Polly, the war has now begun
And I must march away by the beating of the drum.
Go dress yourself in your best and come along with me,
I'll take you to the war, my love, in the Isle of Germany.'

"O Billy, my dear Billy, listen to what I say.
My feet they are so very sore I cannot march away.
Besides, my dearest Billy, I am with child by thee;
I'm not fitting for the war, my love, in the Isle of Germany.'

"I'll buy you a horse, my love, my Polly, you shall ride
And all my delight shall be a-walking by your side.
We'll call to every ale-house that ever we pass by,
We'll sweetheart on the road, my love, get married by and by.'

Cruel, cruel was the war when first the rout began
And out of old England went many a smart young man.
They pressed my love away from me, likewise my brothers three,
They sent them to the war, my love, in the Isle of Germany.

The drum that my love's beating is covered in green,
The pretty lambs are sporting, 'tis pleasure to be seen.
And when my pretty babe is born, sits smiling on my knee,
I'll think upon my own true love in the Isle of Germany.