Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.
One with no seams, of fine needlework
And then she'll be a true lover of mine.
Tell her to dry it 'pon yonder thorn
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.
That never bore fruit since adam was born
And then she'll be a true lover of mine.
Ah, can you find me an acre of land
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.
Between the salt sea and the sea sand
Or never be a true lover of mine.
And can you plough it with a sheep's horn
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.
And sow it all over with one peppercorn
Or never be a true lover of mine.
And when you have done and finished your work
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.
Then come to me for your cambric shirt
And then you'll be a true lover of mine.