Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme remind me of someone who lived there. At the Scarborough Fair. That person was once my true love. Are you going to the Scarborough Fair? Tell him to make me a Cambric shirt. Don't forget to tell him no stitches or needles. Then that person will be my true love. In a green forest, you have to track sparrows on a snowy ground. Mountain boy blanket, sleeping until he didn't realize clarion's call. Are you really going there? To the Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme haunt me. Please, tell him to find me an acre of land. Between the salt water, and the strands of the sea. Then that person will have a chance to be my true love. Sprinkling leaves, washing graves with silvery tears, and polishing guns. Again I beg you to reap it as skins, and gather them all in a bunch of heather. Now, it's time for that person to be my true love. Blazing in the Red Battalion, the generals ordered their soldiers to kill, and an excuse they had long forgotten. All of this haunts me indirectly. I beg you, I will ask this one more time. Are you going to the Scarborough Fair?