Quote image editor
“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 your time was waste Will all spread over with rue Will all spread over with rue The goddess son was standing by Three flowers he gave to me The pink, the blue and the violet true And the red, red rosy tree And the red, red rosy tree But I refused the red rose bush And gave the willow tree That all the world may plainly see How my love slighted me How my love slighted me” — traditional folk ballad
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 your time was waste
Will all spread over with rue
Will all spread over with rue
The goddess son was standing by
Three flowers he gave to me
The pink, the blue and the violet true
And the red, red rosy tree
And the red, red rosy tree
But I refused the red rose bush
And gave the willow tree
That all the world may plainly see
How my love slighted me
How my love slighted me