Are you going to Scarborough Faire,
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,
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme,
Without no sleeves nor needlework,
Then she'll be a true love of mine,
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.
Tell her to plough it with a lamb's horn,
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme,
And sow it all o'er with one peppercorn,
Then she'll be a true love of mine.
Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather,
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme,
A thrash it all out with a bunch of heather,
Then she'll be a true love of mine.
Are you going to Scarborough Faire,
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme,
Remember me to one who lives there,
She once was a true love of mine.
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