| There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
|
| A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
|
| It is a special one
|
| It’s never seen the sun
|
| It only comes out when the moon is on the run
|
| And all the stars are gleaming
|
| It’s growing in the street
|
| Right up through the concrete
|
| But soft and sweet
|
| And dreaming
|
| There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
|
| A red rose up in Spanish Harlem, yeah
|
| With eyes as black as coal
|
| That looks down in my soul
|
| And starts a fire there and then I lose control
|
| I have to beg your pardon
|
| I’m goin' to pick that rose
|
| And watch her as she grows
|
| In my garden
|
| There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
|
| A red rose up in Spanish Harlem, yeah
|
| With eyes as black as coal
|
| That looks down in my soul
|
| And starts a fire there and then I lose control
|
| I have to beg your pardon
|
| I’m goin' to pick that rose
|
| And watch her as she grows
|
| In my garden
|
| With eyes as black as coal
|
| That looks down in my soul
|
| And starts a fire there and then I lose control
|
| I have to beg your pardon
|
| I’m goin' to pick that rose
|
| And watch her as she grows
|
| In my garden
|
| I’m goin' to pick that rose
|
| And watch her as she grows
|
| In my garden
|
| I’m goin' to pick that rose
|
| And watch her as she grows
|
| In my garden
|
| Spanish Harlem
|
| Spanish Harlem
|
| Spanish Harlem
|
| Spanish Harlem
|
| Spanish Harlem |