Come all ye fair and 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
For when your thyme, it is past and gone He′ll care no more for you And every place where your thyme was waste Will spread all over with rue Will spread all over with rue
The gardener's son, standing by Three flowers he gave to me The pink, the blue and the violet true And the red, red rosy tree And the red, red rosy tree
But I refused the red rose bush And gained the willow tree That all the world may plainly see How my love slighted me How my love slighted me
A woman is a lofty tree And man′s a clinging vine And from her branches carelessly He'll take what he can find He'll take what he can find
Come all ye fair and tender girls That flourish in your prime Beware, beware, keep your garden fair Let no man steal your thyme Let no man steal your thymeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
