Come all you sweet and fair young maids Who flourish in your prime Be sure and keep your garden clean Let no man take your thyme My thyme it is all blown away I cannot plant a new one In the place where my thyme stood It's all grown up in rue In June comes in a primrose flower But that is not for me I will pull off my primrose flower and plant A willow tree Oh willow, green willow With sorrows mixed among To tell to all this wide wide world I love a false young man