Come all ye maidens young and fair
All you that are bloming in your prime
Always be ware and keep your garden fair
Let no man steal away your thyme
For thyme it is a precious thing
And thyme brings all things to my mind
Thyme with all its labours along with all its joys
Thyme brings all things to my mind
Once she had a bunch of thyme
She thought it never would decay
Then came a lusty sailor who chanced to pass her way
He stole her bunch of thyme away
The sailor gave to her a rose
A rose that never would decay
He gave it to her to keep her reminded
Of when he stole her thyme away
Come all ye maidens young and fair
All you that are bloming in your prime
Always be ware and keep your garden fair
Let no man steal away your thyme
For thyme it is a precious thing
And thyme brings all things to my mind
Thyme with all its labours along with all its joys
Thyme brings all things to an end |