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.