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1 " Come all you fair and tender girlsThat flourish in your primeBeware, beware, keep your garden fairLet no man steal your thymeLet no man steal your thymeFor when your thyme, it is past and goneHe'll care no more for youAnd every place your time was wasteWill all spread over with rueWill all spread over with rueThe goddess son was standing byThree flowers he gave to meThe pink, the blue and the violet trueAnd the red, red rosy treeAnd the red, red rosy treeBut I refused the red rose bushAnd gave the willow treeThat all the world may plainly seeHow my love slighted meHow my love slighted me "
― traditional folk ballad