Come all you fair and tender girls That flourish in your prime Beware, beware, keep your garden fair Let no man steal your thyme Your thyme For when your thyme is past and gone He'll care no more for you And in the place your time was waste Everywhere you paced Will spread all over with rue
The gardener s son, was standing by, Three flowers he gave to me, The pink, the blue and the violet too , And the red, red rosy tree and a rose bush, But I refuse the red rose bush, And gained the willow tree, But I silently planted a weeping willow, That all the world may plainly see how I tell the whole world plainly, How my love slighted me
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