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.