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.