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verification. (September 2016) |
Strawberry Fair is an English folk song ( Roud Folk Song Index 173).
The song was collected by H. Fleetwood Sheppard in Broadstone, Devon, in 1891. The text may have been re-written by Sabine Baring Gould and Fleetwood Sheppard.
As I was going to Strawberry Fair,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups 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.
"Kind Sir, pray pick of my basket!" she said,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups 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, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
"Your cherries soon will be wasted away;"
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
"Your roses wither'd and never stay,
Fol-de-dee.
'Tis not to seek such perishing ware
That I am tramping to Strawberry Fair."
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
I want to purchase a generous heart,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
A tongue that neither is nimble or tart.
Tol-de-dee!
An honest mind, but such trifles are rare
I doubt if they're found at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
The price I offer, my sweet pretty maid
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
A ring of gold on your finger displayed,
Tol-de-dee!
So come- make over to me your ware,
In church today at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
This article needs additional citations for
verification. (September 2016) |
Strawberry Fair is an English folk song ( Roud Folk Song Index 173).
The song was collected by H. Fleetwood Sheppard in Broadstone, Devon, in 1891. The text may have been re-written by Sabine Baring Gould and Fleetwood Sheppard.
As I was going to Strawberry Fair,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups 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.
"Kind Sir, pray pick of my basket!" she said,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups 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, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
"Your cherries soon will be wasted away;"
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
"Your roses wither'd and never stay,
Fol-de-dee.
'Tis not to seek such perishing ware
That I am tramping to Strawberry Fair."
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
I want to purchase a generous heart,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
A tongue that neither is nimble or tart.
Tol-de-dee!
An honest mind, but such trifles are rare
I doubt if they're found at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
The price I offer, my sweet pretty maid
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
A ring of gold on your finger displayed,
Tol-de-dee!
So come- make over to me your ware,
In church today at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.