You need not bring me cambric shirts,
woven with no seam.
No, I need not needlework
that never could be seen.
Take me not to Scarborough,
I'd rather have what's real.
Forgo the impossible,
for iron is not steel.
Bring me not dry water,
or, a feather from a bull.
Bear me not a daughter,
or, a lantern always full.
Love me simple,love me true.
When you wish,then, chide me too.
Do the things, you love to do,
even when, I'm down and blue.
Fear thee not to be yourself,
even when I need your help.
Set me shortly on the shelf,
If too much, I whine and yelp.
Take me to the mountain streams,
expand my mind and teach me things.
Listen to me as I sing
and hold me close when hell's bells ring.
Dry my shirt not on the thorns,
blossoms never shorn.
With it's roses never born,
oh how that bramble did mourn.
Bring me not dry land from sea,
acres of it I don't need.
Show me not the stones that bleed,
or the swine who never feed.
The only way that I would go,
to the fair of Scarborough,
is if my lover there would show,
then, anything, I would forego.
