Come all you pretty fair maids
Who flourish in your prime
Be sure to keep your garden clean
Let no one take your thyme
My thyme, it is all gone away
I cannot plant anew
And in the place where my thyme stood
It's all growed up in rue
In June comes in the primrose flower
But that is not for me
I will pull up my primrose flower
And plant a willow tree
Oh willow, green willow
With sorrow mixed among
To tell to all this wide world
I loved a false young man"