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They call me The Wild but my name was Elisa Day
Why they me it I do not for my name was Elisa Day
From the first day I met her I she was the one
As she [ . . . ] in my and [ . . . ]
For her lips the colour of the roses that grew down the river, all and wild
When he came on my door and the room
My subsided in his sure embrace
He would be my first man, and with a careful hand, he up the tears that my face
They call me The Wild Rose but my was Elisa Day
Why call me it I do not for my name was Elisa Day
On the second day I brought her a flower
She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen
I said, 'Do you where the wild roses so sweet and scarlet and free?'
On the second day he smiled with a single rose
Said: 'Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?'
I my head, as I lay on the bed
'If I show you the roses will you follow?'
call me The Rose but my was Elisa Day
Why they call me it I do not for my was Elisa Day
On the third day he took me to the river
He me the roses and we kissed
And the last I was a word as he above me with a rock in his fist
On the last day I took her the wild grow
And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief
As I told her goodbye, said, 'All beauty must die'
And I lent down and planted a between her teeth
Why they me it I do not for my name was Elisa Day
From the first day I met her I she was the one
As she [ . . . ] in my and [ . . . ]
For her lips the colour of the roses that grew down the river, all and wild
When he came on my door and the room
My subsided in his sure embrace
He would be my first man, and with a careful hand, he up the tears that my face
They call me The Wild Rose but my was Elisa Day
Why call me it I do not for my name was Elisa Day
On the second day I brought her a flower
She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen
I said, 'Do you where the wild roses so sweet and scarlet and free?'
On the second day he smiled with a single rose
Said: 'Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?'
I my head, as I lay on the bed
'If I show you the roses will you follow?'
call me The Rose but my was Elisa Day
Why they call me it I do not for my was Elisa Day
On the third day he took me to the river
He me the roses and we kissed
And the last I was a word as he above me with a rock in his fist
On the last day I took her the wild grow
And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief
As I told her goodbye, said, 'All beauty must die'
And I lent down and planted a between her teeth
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