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, its 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.