In my garden grew plenty of Thyme, It would flourish by night and by day; O'er the wall came a lad, he took all that I had, And stole my thyme away. 2 My garden with heartsease was bright, The pansy so pied and so gay; One slipped through the gate, and alas! cruel fate, My heartsease took away. 3 My garden grew self-heal and balm, And speedwell that's blue for an hour, Then blossoms again, O grievous my pain! I'm plundered of each flower. 4 There grows in my garden the rue, And Love-lies-a-bleeding droops there, The hyssop and myrrh, the teazle and burr, In place of blossoms fair. 5 The willow with branches that weep, The thorn and the cypress tree, O why were the seeds of such dolorous weeds, Thus scattered there by thee? No. 8 ROVING JACK C.J.S. [Music] 1 Young Jack he was a journey-man That roved from town to town, And when he'd done a job of work, He lightly sat him down. With his kit upon his shoulder, and A grafting knife in hand, He roved the country round about, A merry journey-man. 2 And when he came to Exeter, The maidens leaped for joy; Said one and all, both short and tall, Here comes a gallant boy. The lady dropt her needle, and The maid her frying-pan, Each plainly told her mother, that She loved the journey-man. 3 He had not been in Exeter, The days were barely three, Before the Mayor, his sweet daughter. She loved him desperately; She bid him to her mother's house, She took him by the hand, Said she, "My dearest mother, see I love the journey-man!" 4 Now out on thee, thou silly maid! Such folly speak no more: How can'st thou love a roving man, Thou ne'er hast seen before? "O mother sweet, I do entreat, I love him all I can; Around the country glad I'll rove With this young journey-man. 5 "He need no more to trudge afoot, He'll travel coach and pair; My wealth with me--or poverty With him, content I'll share." Now fill the horn with barleycorn, And flowing fill the can: Here let us toast the Mayor's daughter And the roving journey-man. No. 9 BRIXHAM TOWN H.F.S. [Music] 1 All ye that love to hear Music performed in air, Pray listen, and give ear, To what I shall perpend. Concerning music, who'd,-- If rightly understood-- Not find 'twould do him good To hearken and attend. 2 In Brixham town so rare For singing sweet and fair, Few can with us compare, We bear away the bell. Extolled up and down By men of high renown, We go from town to town; And none can us excell. 3 There's a man in Brixham town Of office, and in gown, Strove to put singing down, Which most of men adore. For House of God unmeet, The voice and organ sweet! When pious men do meet, To praise their God before. 4