John Peekstok

Lyrics

Oh once I had thyme of my own
And in my own garden it grew
I used to know the place where my thyme it did grow
But now it is covered up with rue, with rue
But now it is covered up with rue.

Oh the rue it is a flourishing thing
It flourishes by night and by day
So beware of a young man and his flattering tongue
He will steal your thyme away, away
He will steal your thyme away.

I sowed my garden full of seeds
But the small birds they carried them away
In April, May, and in June likewise
When the small birds sing all day, all day
When the small birds sing all the day.

In June there was a red and rosy bud
And that seemed the flower for me
So often times I snatched at that red, rosy bud
Till I gained the willow willow tree, willow tree
Till I gained the willow willow tree.

Oh the willow willow tree, it will twist
And the willow willow tree, it will twine
And so it was with that young and false-hearted man
When he gained this heart of mine, of mine
When he gained this heart of mine.

Oh thyme it is a precious, precious thing
On the road that the sun shines upon
But thyme it is a thing that will bring you to an end
And that’s how my thyme has gone, has gone
And that's how my thyme has gone.