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27.—STRAWBERRY FAIR.
1 As I was going to Strawberry Fair,
Singing, singing, buttercups and daisies, I met a maiden taking her ware,
Fol-de-dee! Her eyes were blue and golden her hair, As she went on to Strawberry Fair, Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do, Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
2 "Kind sir, pray pick of my basket!" she said,
Singing, singing, buttercups and daisies, "My cherries ripe, or my roses red,
Fol-de-dee ! My strawberries sweet, I can of them spare, As I go on to Strawberry Fair." Ri-fol, &c.
3 Your cherries soon will be wasted away,
Singing, singing, buttercups and daisies, Your roses wither and never stay,
Fol-de-dee! 'Tis not to seek such perishing ware, That I am tramping to Strawberry Fair. Ri-fol, &c.
4 I want to purchase a generous heart,
Singing, singing, buttercups and daisies, A tongue that is neither nimble nor tart.
Fol-de-dee! An honest mind, but such trifles are rare, I doubt if they're found at Strawberry Fair. Ri-fol, &c.
5 The price I offer, my sweet pretty maid,
Singing, singing, buttercups and daisies, A ring of gold on your finger displayed,
Fol-de-dee! So come, make over to me your ware In church to-day at Strawberry Fair. Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do, Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee. |
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