Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

One of my favorite songs has always been Scarborough Fair, and most people are very familiar with the version recorded and performed by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel. I say version, because, although the song is credited to Paul Simon on the album, it’s really a very old English folk song, dating back to medieval times. Simon’s version is really the arrangement of Martin Carthy, although he is not credited at all on the recording, possibly because Simon made subtle changes to the lyric. This version also has another song, called Canticle, interwoven with it.

This past weekend, I heard the Mediaeval Baebes perform their version of the song, which I found most interesting. First, they basically sang some of the verses that Carthy dropped from his version, yet they retained the Canticle melody line. Instead of singing the lyric to Canticle, they sang an answering version of Scarborough Fair using the Canticle melody line.

Here, then, are the most common lyrics to the song:

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
For oce she was a true love of mine

Have her make me a cambric shirt
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Without no seam nor fine needle work
And then she’ll be a true love of mine

Tell her to weave it in a sycamore wood lane
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
And gather it all with a basket of flowers
And then she’ll be a true love of mine

Have her wash it in yonder dry well
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
where water ne’er sprung nor drop of rain fell
And then she’ll be a true love of mine

Have her find me an acre of land
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Between the sea foam and over the sand
And then she’ll be a true love of mine

Plow the land with the horn of a lamb
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Then sow some seeds from north of the dam
And then she’ll be a true love of mine

Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
And gather it all in a bunch of heather
And then she’ll be a true love of mine

If she tells me she can’t, I’ll reply
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Let me know that at least she will try
And then she’ll be a true love of mine

Love imposes impossible tasks
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Though not more than any heart asks
And I must know she’s a true love of mine

Dear, when thou has finished thy task
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Come to me, my hand for to ask
For thou then art a true love of mine

I find it very interesting that probably the most important part of the song was left out in the Carthy/Simon version — the second to last verse.

More can be read about the song here and here.

The lyric to Canticle:

Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown.
Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain
Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.

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.

War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions.
Generals order their soldiers to kill.
And to fight for a cause they’ve long ago forgotten.

And, and interesting counter-version of Scarborough Fair:

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
For oce she was a true love of mine

Go tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Without a stitch of a seamster’s work,
And then she will be a true love of mine.

Go tell her to wash it in yonder well,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Where never was water, and rain never fell.
And then she will be a true love of mine.

Go tell her to hang it on yonder thorn,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Where leaf never budded since Adam was born.
And then she will be a true love of mine.

Go tell him to clear me an acre of land,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
Between the salt water and the sea sand.
And then he will be a true love of mine.

Go tell him to plow it all with a thorn,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
And plant it all over with one grain of corn.
And then he will be a true love of mine.

Go tell him to reap it with an old stirrup-leather,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
And bind it all up with a pea-fowl’s feather.
And then he will be a true love of mine.

Go tell him to thrash it against the wall,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
And not one grain on the floor shall fall.
And then he will be a true love of mine.

Go tell him to shock it in yonder sea,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
And return it back all dry to me.
And then he will be a true love of mine.

Go tell him to take it to the mill,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
And every grain it’s bushel shall fill
And then he will be a true love of mine.

Go tell him to wrap it all up in a sack,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
And send it to market all on a rat’s back.
And then he will be a true love of mine.

Go tell this young man when he gets his work done,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,
To come to my house and his shirt will be done.
And then he will be a true love of mine.

If he tells me he cannot, why, then reply
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Let me know that at least he will try
And then he’ll be a true love of mine.

For love imposes impossible tasks,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Though not more than any heart asks
And I must know he’s a true love of mine.

This version is very interesting, told from the point of view of the woman in the story, but neatly coming back to a common ending. I think I’d like to do a version of the lyric that integrates “both sides of the story,” although it would end up as a very long song!