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