Rose

Trip Shakespeare

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.