Roger Whittaker

Roger Whittaker - Scarborough Fair

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Roger Whittaker - Scarborough Fair

Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

Remember me to one who lives there, she was once 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 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, a sprinkling of leaves).

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme (Washes the ground with so many tears).

Between 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 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 was once a true love of mine.

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