As sweet Polly Oliver lay musing in bed
A sudden strange fancy came into her head
“Nor father nor mother shall make me false prove
I'll 'list as a soldier, and follow my love.”

So early next morning she softly arose
And dressed herself up in her dead brother's clothes
She cut her hair close, and she stained her face brown
And went for a soldier to fair London Town

Then up spoke the sergeant one day at his drill
“Now who's good for nursing? A captain, he's ill.”
“I'm ready,” said Polly. To nurse him, she's gone
And finds it's her true love all wasted and wan

The first week, the doctor kept shaking his head
“No nursing, young fellow, can save him,” he said
But when Polly Oliver had nursed him back to life
He cried, “You have cherished him as if you were his wife”

O then Polly Oliver, he burst into tears
And told the good doctor her hopes and her fears
And very shortly after, for better or for worse
The captain took joyfully his pretty soldier nurse