Polly Oliver As pretty Polly Oliver lay musing in bed A comical fancy came into her head Nor father nor mother shall make me false prove I'll list for a soldier and follow my love. The drums they did rattle and the trumpets did blow With heart all a-tremble into battle she did go Her lover was wounded and fell by her side But knew her and squeezed her dear hand before he died. And as she sat crying beside his cold corpse The General rode up to her riding on a white horse Then Polly ups and says to him, though mortal afraid "Oh Sir, I'm no soldier lad, I'm nothing but a maid." Now seeing as her lover was gone from this life He kissed her full kindly and did make her his wife Now Polly is a lady and never knows care But lives in contentment with a thousand pounds a year. |
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