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Scarborough Fair/Canticle, provided with The Elfin Knight, Whittingham Fair and Rosemary Lane, and with an Appendix on Riddles Wisely Expounded

Simon & Garfunkel
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OriginaleLa versione di Ewan McColl & Peggy Seeger รจ tratta da Child#2...
SCARBOROUGH FAIR/CANTICLE, PROVIDED WITH THE ELFIN KNIGHT, WHITTINGHAM FAIR AND ROSEMARY LANE, AND WITH AN APPENDIX ON RIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED


A1. SCARBOROUGH FAIR


Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary & 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 & thyme
Without no seams nor needlework
Then she'll be a true love of mine

Tell her to find me an acre of land
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
Between the salt water and the sea strand
Then she'll be a true love of mine

Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
Then she'll be a true love of mine

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine.

2. CANTICLE


On the side of a hill in the deep forest green
Tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground
Blankets and bedclothes a child of the mountains
Sleeps unaware of the clarion call
On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves
Washed is the ground with so many tears
A soldier cleans and polishes a gun
War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions
Generals order their soldiers to kill
And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten.

THE ELFIN KNIGHT

There stands three trumpeters on yon hill
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
And they blaw their trumpets sae loud and shrill
And the wind it blaws my plaid awa'

Gin I'd his trumpet in my kist
And was in the lad's arms that I like best

Gin ye would be wed wi' me
There's ae thing ye maun dae for me

Ye maun mak' me a linen sark
Without a stitch o' needlewark

Ye maun wash it in yon draw-well
Where water never sprang or fell

Ye maun drt't on yon hawthorn
That hasna seen blossom since man was born

And gin I mak'a sark for thee
There's ae thing ye maun dae for me

My faither has an acre o' land
Ye maun plough it wi' you ae hand

Ye maun sow it wantin' corn
And roll it wi' a sheep's shank-bone

Ye maun shear it wi' a scythe o' leather
And bind it wi' a peacock's feather

Ye maun stook it in the sea
And bring the whaetsheaf dry to me

And gin ye wark noo all this wark
Come to me and you'll get your sark


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