josh ritter
pretty polly
Pretty Polly, please come on down From your home home high up off the ground In the tree dark and forlorn Where the rope hangs bruised and worn  Though I'll never fly to you It's the last thing I would do You have dug two holes so deep I'm afraid that one's for me  Pretty Polly must I cry Without your voice I'll fear I'd die The song you sing and the story you tell We must keep them to ourselves  Oh I know my voice like nightingale Now I have my brand new tale Of a tree dark and forlorn Where a rope hang bruised and worn  Petty Polly, I have bread That I have not eaten yet Come and take them from my halls Then we'll lay your song to rest  I suppose my song can wait For I am hungry and grows late I will eat your bread and then I will sing my song again