Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, Remember me to one who lives there, She once was a true love of mine.
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt, (On the side of a hill in the deep forest green,) Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, (Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown,) Without no seam nor needle work, (Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain,) Then she'll be a true love of mine. Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
Tell her to find me an acre of land, (On the side of a hill a sprinkling of leaves, Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, (Washes the grave with silvery tears,) Between the salt water and the sea strand, (A soldier cleans and polishes a gun.) Then she'll be a true love of mine.
Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather, (War bellows lazing in scarlet batallions,) Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, (Generals orders their soldiers to kill,) And to gather it all in a bunch of heather, (And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten.) Then she'll be a true love of mine.
Are you going to Scarborough fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, Remember me to one who lives there, She once was a true love of mine.