The Sprig of Thyme

Come all you 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.

I had a sprig of thyme
It flourished night and day
Till at length there came a false young man
And stole my thyme away
And stole my thyme away.

And now my thyme is gone
And I can plant no new
And in every place where my thyme did grow
Is overrun with rue
Is overrun with rue.

O rue it is a running root
It flourishes night and day
I wish I was in that young man's arms
That stole my thyme away
That stole my thyme away.

O come you false young men
Don't leave me to complain
The grass that's trodden underfoot
In time will rise again
In time will rise again.