Scarborough Fair

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 seams 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 in the sprinkling of leaves.) Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; (Washes the grave with silvery tears.) Between the salt water and the sea strands, (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 blazing in scarlet battalions.) Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; (Generals order their soldiers to kill.) And gather it all in a bunch of heather, (And to fight for a cause they have 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.