The Story Behind The Song: Scarborough Fair/Canticle

"Scarborough Fair" is a traditional English ballad. The song lists a number of impossible tasks given to a former lover who lives in Scarborough, North Yorkshire.

When you hear Paul Simon’s fingerpicking drift into that mystical, modal melody and Art Garfunkel’s angelic tenor whisper “Are you going to Scarborough Fair?”, it feels like you’ve stepped through a portal—into an England of mist and myth, of falcons and fair maidens and impossible love. But how exactly did this centuries-old folk song end up on a 1966 album by two guys from Queens?

🌿 A Ballad Rooted in Time: The History of "Scarborough Fair"

The origins of Scarborough Fair can be traced back to at least 1670, rooted in the haunting Scottish ballad “The Elfin Knight.” That earlier version—part faerie tale, part riddle song—tells of a supernatural being who sets a young woman impossible tasks, such as sewing a seamless shirt or washing it in a dry well. Sound familiar?

Over time, The Elfin Knight gave rise to a family of “impossible task” ballads. One of those evolved into what we now know as Scarborough Fair, though earlier versions often named different towns depending on the singer's locale—Whittingham Fair, Capel Fair, even Dublin City. The fair wasn’t always Scarborough, but the song’s central theme remained: a lover's lament disguised as a puzzle.

The “Scarborough” that eventually became canon refers to a bustling coastal market town in North Yorkshire, which hosted a grand trading fair during the Middle Ages. These fairs were not just for commerce—they were cultural crossroads where music, gossip, and ballads could be bartered just as easily as wool and spices.

And what about that curious herbal refrain? “Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme” wasn't just added for flavor. Each herb carried symbolic meaning in English folklore:

Parsley: comfort for grief
Sage: wisdom and strength
Rosemary: remembrance
Thyme: courage and endurance

The repeated list reads like a charm, a whispered spell woven through a song of longing and emotional stalemate.

🎙️ Enter: Simon & Garfunkel

Fast-forward to the early 1960s folk revival. Young musicians across America and Britain were mining ancient songs and ballads for meaning, trying to reconnect with a sense of cultural authenticity. Among them was Paul Simon, who was traveling in England in 1965 when he encountered a version of Scarborough Fair performed by folk singer Martin Carthy.

Carthy’s stripped-down, modal arrangement (with that hypnotic Dorian mode flavor) struck a chord with Simon. He picked up the tune, added a baroque counter-melody, and married it with a protest song of his own—Canticle, a reworking of his earlier anti-war lyric “The Side of a Hill.” The result was a contrapuntal duet that blended love-lost mysticism with Vietnam-era commentary. A Renaissance ballad meets 1960s conscience.

When Simon & Garfunkel recorded the song for their 1966 album, they titled it “Scarborough Fair/Canticle.” The intertwining melodies—Art’s vocals echoing the fair, Paul’s whispering of war—gave the piece an eerie, spellbinding quality that felt ancient and urgent all at once.

😬 But Wait—There’s Drama

After the song’s release, Martin Carthy was less than thrilled. He had shared the traditional arrangement in good faith, but Simon hadn’t credited him for the version. For years, there was tension between the two. It wasn’t until decades later, when Simon returned to the UK for a reunion concert in 2000, that the rift was mended.

The Carthy-Simon saga became one of those folk-revival cautionary tales about credit, tradition, and the blurry lines between homage and appropriation.

🎬 From Fair to Film

If you’re wondering why the song feels cinematic, you’re not wrong. Scarborough Fair/Canticle was featured prominently in Mike Nichols’ 1967 film The Graduate, giving it an afterlife as a symbol of youthful melancholy and societal disillusionment. Suddenly, an old English ballad was the backdrop to Dustin Hoffman’s affair with Mrs. Robinson.

🌀 The Enduring Spell

Simon & Garfunkel’s Scarborough Fair/Canticle isn’t just a cover. It’s a transmutation. They resurrected a ghost from the past and gave it a second life in the modern age—braiding it with politics, poetry, and a dash of countercultural yearning.

So the next time you hear those chords and that soft refrain—parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme—know that you’re hearing the echoes of centuries: lovers long gone, fairs long over, and the eternal ache of asking the impossible of someone who once held your heart.