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 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) Parsely, sage, rosemary and thyme; (Washes the grave with so many tears) Between the 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 with a sickle of leather: (War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions) Parsely, 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 once was a true love of mine.