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. |
