From Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England … collected and edited by James Henry Dixon (London: Printed for the Percy Society, 1846), page 222:

XXX.

The Seeds of Love.

THIS very curious old song is not only a favourite with our peasantry, but, through its being introduced in the modern dramatic entertainment of The Loan of a Lover, has obtained popularity in more elevated circles. Its sweetly plaintive tune may be seen in Chappell's National English Airs. The words are quaint, but by no means void of beauty; they are, no doubt, corrupted, as we have them in the common broadsides from which the editor is obliged to print, not having been able to meet with them in any other form.

I SOWED the seeds of love, it was all in the spring,
In April, May, and June, likewise, when small birds they do sing;
My garden 's well planted with flowers every where,
Yet I had not the liberty to choose for myself the flower that I loved so dear.

My gardener he stood by, I asked him to choose for me,
He chose me the violet, the lilly and pink, but those I refused all three;
The violet I forsook, because it fades so soon,
The lilly and the pink I did o'erlook, and I vowed I'd stay till June.

In June there's a red rose-bud, and that's the flower for me!
But often have I plucked at the red rose-bud till I gained the willow tree;
The willow-tree will twist, and the willow-tree will twine,
O! I wish I was in the dear youth's arms that once had the heart of mine.

My gardener he stood by, he told me to take great care,
For in the middle of a red rose-bud there grows a sharp thorn there;
I told him I'd take no care till I did feel the smart,
And often I plucked at the red rose-bud till I pierced it to the heart.

I'll make me a posy of hyssop,—no other I can touch,—
That all the world may plainly see I love one flower too much;
My garden is run wild! where shall I plant anew—
For my bed, that once was covered with thyme, is all overrun with rue?