Произведение: Scarborough Fair (средневековая английская песня)
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Текст песни увидели: 592
Музыкант: Celtic Woman
Дата добавки: 2015-05-05
Длительность mp3 песни: 03:15
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Remember me to one who lives there,
She once was a true love of mine.
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
(On the side of a hill in the deep forest green,)
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
(Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown,)
Without no seam nor needle work,
(Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain,)
Then she'll be a true love of mine.
(Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.)
Tell her to find me an acre of land,
(On the side of a hill a sprinkling of leaves,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
(Washes the grave with silvery tears,)
Between the salt water and the sea strand,
(A soldier cleans and polishes a gun.)
Then she'll be a true love of mine.
Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather,
(War bellows lazing in scarlet batallions,)
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
(Generals orders their soldiers to kill,)
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather,
(And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten.)
Then she'll be a true love of mine.
Are you going to Scarborough fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Remember me to one who lives there,
She once was a true love of mine.