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 a sparrow on snow-crested ground)
Without no seams nor needlework,
(Blankets and bedclothes a child of the mountains)
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,
(Washed is the ground with so many 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 in a sickle of leather,
(War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
(Generals order 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.

See also:
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