Come all you fair and tender girlsThat flourish in your primeBeware, beware, keep your garden fairLet no man steal your thymeLet no man steal your thymeFor when your thyme is past and goneHe'll care no more for youAnd every place that your thyme was wasteWill spread all o'er with rueWill spread all o'er with rueThe gardener's son was standing byThree flowers he gave to meThe pink, the blue and the violet tooAnd the red, red rosy treeAnd the red, red rosy treeBut I refused the red rose bushAnd gained the willow treeThat all the world may plainly seeHow my love slighted meHow my love slighted me
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