"O, where are you going?" "To Scarborough fair,"
	Savoury sage, rosemary, and thyme;
"Remember me to a lass who lives there,
	For once she was a true love of mine.

"And tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
	Savoury sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Without any seam or needlework,
	And then she shall be a true love of mine.

"And tell her to wash it in yonder dry well,
	Savoury sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Where no water sprung, nor a drop of rain fell,
	And then she shall be a true love of mine.

"Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn,
	Savoury sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Which never bore blossom since Adam was born,
	And then she shall be a true love of thine."

"O, will you find me an acre of land,
	Savoury sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Between the sea foam, the sea sand,
	Or never be a true lover of mine.

"O, will you plough it with a ram's horn,
	Savoury sage, rosemary, and thyme,
And sow it all over with one peppercorn,
	Or never be a true lover of mine.

"O, will you reap it with a sickle of leather,
	Savoury sage, rosemary, and thyme,
And tie it all up with a peacock's feather,
	Or never be a true lover of mine.

"And when you have done and finished your work,
	Savoury sage, rosemary, and thyme,
You may come to me for your cambric shirt,
	And then you shall be a true lover of mine."