When I was in my prime
I flourished like a vine
Along there came a false young man
Who stole the heart of mine.(2)
The gardener standing by
Three offers he made to me
The pink, the violet, and red rose
To which I refused all three. (2)
The pink's no flower at all
It fades away too soon
The violet is too pale a bloom
I think I'll wait till June. (2)
In June the red rose blooms
But it`s not the flower for me
I think I'll pluck the red rose off
And plant a willow tree. (4)