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Strawberry Fair

English Folk Song
Written By: Unknown
Copyright Unknown

As I was going to Strawberry Fair,
Singing, singing, buttercups and daisies,
I met a maiden taking her wares, 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, 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, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.

"Your cherries soon will be wasted away;"
Singing, singing, buttercups 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, buttercups and daisies
"A tongue that neither is 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, 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, buttercups and daisies
"A ring of gold on your finger displayed, fol-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.