I courted pretty Polly all the live-long night and left her next morning before it was light.
"Pretty Polly, come go along with me before we get married, some pleasures to see."
We walked over mountains and valleys so deep, then my pretty Polly started to weep.
We walked on a little further and what did we spy but a new dug grave and a spade lying by.
"Oh Willie, I'm afraid of your ways. I'm afraid you will lead my poor body astray."
"Pretty Polly, you guessed it about right, for I dug on your grave the best part of last night."
There's no time to talk, there's no time to stand. I drew up my knife all in my right hand.
I stabbed her in her heart and her heart's blood did flow, and into her grave pretty Polly did go.
I threw a little dirt over her and started for home, leaving no-one but the wild birds to mourn.