Come all you girls, where'er you be,
Who flourish in your prime
Beware, take care if your garden is fair
Let no man steal your thyme
Let no man steal your thyme
For when your thyme is pulled and gone
He'll care no more for you
And every place where your thyme went to waste
Will all spread over with rue
Will all spread over with rue
I gave my love my summer?s yield
and all my autumn?s store.
From of my skill he took his fill
and asked for more and more,
and asked for more and more.
He fed to me of honeyed wine
and all we sowed in May,
but come new spring he went wandering.
From me he then did stray,
from me he then did stray.
The gardener's son was standing by,
The violet blue and the iris too,
and the red, red rose made three,
and the red, red rose made three.
But I refused that red rose bush
and I planted the willow tree,
so all the world may plainly see
how my love slighted me,
how my love slighted me.
A woman is a branching tree
and a man?s a clinging vine,
and from her bounty so carelessly
he?ll take what he can find,
he?ll take what he can find.