Come all you 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 garden was waste With spread all over with rue, With spread all over with rue A woman is a branchy tree And a man a single wand, wand And from her branches carelessly He takes what he can find. He takes what he can find He takes what he can find
