Whittingham Fair |
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WHITTINGHAM FAIR
Are you going to Whittingham Fair, Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, Remember me to one that lives there, For once she was a true love of mine. Tell her to make me a cambric shirt, Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, Without any seam or needlework, And she shall be a true lover of mine. Tell her to wash it it yonder well, Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Where never spring water nor rain ever fell And she shall be a true lover of mine Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn, Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Which never bore blossom since Adam was born, And she shall be a true lover of mine. Tell him to find me an acre of land, Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Between the salt water and the sea strand, Then he shall be a true lover of mine. Tell him to plough it with a ram's horn, Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme And sow it all over with one pepper corn, Then he shall be a true lover of mine When he has done and finished his work, Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Oh tell him to come and he'll have his shirt, And he shall be a true love of mine. [Go Back] |
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