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.
On the side of a hill in the deep forest green. Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown. Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt: Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; Without no seams nor needle work, Then she'll be a true love of mine.
On the side of a hill a sprinkling of leaves. Washes the grave with silvery tears. A soldier cleans and polishes a gun. Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
Tell her to find me an acre of land: Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; Between the salt water and the sea strand, Then she'll be a true love of mine.
War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions. General order their soldiers to kill. And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten.
Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather: Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; And gather it all in a bunch of heather, Then she'll be a true love of mine.
