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.