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(learned from John Jacob Niles)

(music to go here)

As pretty Polly Oliver sat musing in bed
A comical fancy came into her head
Not father nor mother shall make me false prove
I'll list for a soldier and follow my love.

So in soldier's attire to the wars she set out
And she bore ev'ry part both in raid and in rout
'Til in a battle she found him slightly wounded and low
As he lay on the ground with his face to the foe.

Now Polly he knew in a moment's quick glance
And he said, Why, my dear one, I left you in France,
But the lass said, No, he was surely mistook,
But her words were belied by the love in her look.

So the sergeant he sent for the parson to come
And marry the lovers who followed the drum
And Polly, restored to her womanly 'state,
Found all that she'd sought in a home and a mate.

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)