| They call me the wild rose
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| But my name is Elisa Day
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| Why they call me I do not know
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| For my name is Elisa Day
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| From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one
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| As she stared in my eyes and smiled
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| For her lips were the colour of the roses
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| That grew down the river, all bloody and wild
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| When he knocked on my door and entered the room
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| My trembling subsided in his sure embrace
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| He would be my first man, and with a careful hand
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| He wiped at the tears that run down my face
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| CHORUS
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| On the second day I brought her a flower
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| She was more beautiful than any woman I’d seen
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| I said, «Do you know where the wild roses grow
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| So sweet and scarlet and free ?»
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| On the second day he came with a single red rose
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| Said :"Will you give me your loss and your sorrow ?"
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| I nodded my head as I lay on the bed
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| He said, «If I show you the roses will you follow ?»
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| CHORUS
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| On the third day he took me to the river
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| He showed me the roses and we kissed
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| And the last thing I heard was a muttered word
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| As he stood smiling above me with a rock in his fist
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| On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow
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| And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief
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| As I kissed her goodbye, I said, «All beauty must die «And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth |