The wild mountain thyme that grows around my door

Has grown there for two score years or more

And I've grown weary waiting for love to say

"Come my way, come my way."



The brook that sings and twinkles in the sun

Has danced this mercy dance since time begun

But o how weary and how long the day will he say

"Come my way."



Lovers all around, I wish you joy

Happiness to every girl and boy.

But sometimes spare a thought of me and say

"Love come her way," come my way.