Trip Shakespeare Rose
You're a pretty sight,
Golden curls hang down.
I'd like to see you in a wedding gown.
I'd like to see you,
It's something everybody knows.
You may become a withering rose.
There are kinds of beauty
Besides what you've got now.
There are kinds of beauty
That a cold wind never shook.
You'll need that beauty
Once you've worn a wedding gown.
And your pretty children start
To rip your pretty looks.
Ah, Rose, I believe when winter comes
You may move, you may fall,
You will shake like the leaves.
