People who remember me from my first time around will know I often make up daft song lyrics as I jog, which I call mantras even though they usually aren’t. Here’s today’s: a response to the arrogant twit of “Scarborough Fair”. I call it “The Scarborough Maid’s Reply”.
I’m glad you’re going from Scarborough Fair,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
You may think you’re witty, you may think you’re rare,
But you were never a true love of mine.
You can go fashion your own cambric shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
And shove it away where the buttons most hurt,
For you were never a true love of mine.
And you can go find your own acre of land,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
I’ve better to do than to wait your command,
For you were never a true love of mine.
With leather or sickle, reap fast or reap slow,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
You’ll find in the end that you reap what you sow
And you were never a true love of mine.
I’m glad you’re going from Scarborough Fair,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Everyone sees you don’t know how to care
So you could never be true love of mine,
You could never be true love of mine.
Enjoy !