A BUNCH OF THYME *
^^^
Come all you maidens young and fair
All you that are blooming in your prime
And always beware
To keep your garden fair
Let no man steal away your thyme.

CHORUS
For thyme it is a precious thing
And thyme brings all things to my mind
Thyme with all its labours,
Along with all its joys
Thyme brings all things to an end

Once I had a bunch of thyme
I thought it never would decay
Then came a lusty sailor,
Who chanced to pass my way
And stole my bunch of thyme away.
For thyme it is a precious thing . . . .

The sailor gave to me a rose
A rose that never would decay
He gave it to me,
To keep me reminded
Of when he stole my thyme away
For thyme it is a precious thing . . . .