Come all you fair and tender girls
That flourish in your prime, prime
Beware, beware, keep your garden fair
And let no man steal your thyme, thyme
Let no man steal your thyme

For when your thyme is past and gone
He'll care no more for you, you
For every place that your thyme was waste
Will all spread o'er with rue, rue
Will all spread o'er with rue

The gardener's son, he was standing by
Three flowers he gave to me, me
The pink, the blue and the violet too
And the red, red rosy tree, tree
And the red, red rosy tree

But I forsook the red rose bush
And gained the willow tree, tree
That all the world may plainly see
How my love slighted me, me
How my love slighted me

For woman is a lofty tree
And man's a clinging vine, vine
And from her branches carelessly
He'll take what he can find, find
He'll take what he can find
So come all you fair and tender girls
That flourish in your prime, prime
Beware, beware, keep your garden fair
And let no man steal your thyme, thyme
Let no man steal your thyme