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They me The Rose but my name was Elisa Day
Why call 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 and [ . . . ]
For her were the colour of the roses grew down the river, all bloody and wild
he came on my and the room
My trembling in his sure embrace
He would be my man, and with a careful hand, he wiped up the tears that down my face
call me The Wild Rose but my name was Day
Why call me it I do not know for my was Elisa Day
On the second day I brought her a flower
She was more than any woman I'd seen
I said, 'Do you where the wild grow so sweet and scarlet and free?'
On the second day he with a single rose
Said: 'Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?'
I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed
'If I show you the will you follow?'
They call me The Rose but my was Day
Why they me it I do not know 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 heard was a muttered word as he knelt me a rock in his fist
On the day I took her where the wild roses 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 rose between her teeth
Why call 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 and [ . . . ]
For her were the colour of the roses grew down the river, all bloody and wild
he came on my and the room
My trembling in his sure embrace
He would be my man, and with a careful hand, he wiped up the tears that down my face
call me The Wild Rose but my name was Day
Why call me it I do not know for my was Elisa Day
On the second day I brought her a flower
She was more than any woman I'd seen
I said, 'Do you where the wild grow so sweet and scarlet and free?'
On the second day he with a single rose
Said: 'Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?'
I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed
'If I show you the will you follow?'
They call me The Rose but my was Day
Why they me it I do not know 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 heard was a muttered word as he knelt me a rock in his fist
On the day I took her where the wild roses 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 rose between her teeth
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