Come all you fair and tender girls

That flourish in your prime

Beware, beware

Keep your garden fair

Let no man steal your thyme

Let no man steal your thyme

For when your thyme it is past and gone

He'll care no more for you

And every place where your thyme was waste

Will all spread o'er with rue

Will all spread o'er with rue

The gardener's son was standing by

Three flowers he gave to me

The pink, the blue and the lilac true

And the red, red rosy tree

And the red, red rosy tree

But I refused the red rose bush

And gained the willow tree

That all the world may plainly see

How my love slighted me

How my love slighted me