Phil Keaggy - Ballad of Romona's Rose lyrics

For our darling baby of yesteryears That's strange, he thought, as he mowed the lawn Of his newly acquired home at the break of dawn There's only one rose in this briar patch That once was a garden of color and thatch How could that single beauty still stand Without any nourishment from this desert sand? He paused for a moment to take a good look At this magnificent rose only seen in a book Its stunning beauty took his breath away Reflecting the sun with the colors so gay The stock stood rigid with a vivid green Spiderous leaves with a glorious sheen To protect the rose, he dug deep with his hands Around the stalky base to loosen the sands Digging revealed a large misshapen stone Much too strange to be left all alone His movements slowed and his brow became furrowed With excitement rising the deeper he burrowed Moving his shadow to obtain more light The sun rays revealed a tombstone in sight He had to know what the tombstone knew So he quickened his pace and dug in with his shoe Carefully, now, don't disturb the rose Because somehow the flower was part of the prose With one huge effort he lifted the stone Wondering why he was there all alone The headpiece seemed to be very very old The engraving was weathered but still very bold "For our darling baby," the first line read What a beautiful way to speak of the dead (Born January 26, 1906 - Died December 20, 1907) "For our darling baby" of yesteryears (Romona Keaggy Pa**ed On to Heaven) Born in full grace, now languishing in tears Just two years of life in the Zuni mountains In a logging camp of white pine and fountains The marble headstone had one corner missing But it must be returned to its place With a pail of spring water and careful cleaning He restored the stone to a pristine gleaming The stone seemed to speak in a quiet way Please find me a home, let me rest some day He guarded the marker to be safe and secluded Started searching the archives for some trace that eluded To the history of such a beautiful child That somehow perished in the mountainous wild As the search continued he became somewhat fanatic Hiding the marble in his littered attic Conversing at length with his cherished stone Promising Romona she would never be alone A search of the archives finally revealed Romona was buried in a Martineztown field City of Albuquerque, New Mexico state Where the Morning Journal reported the date The stone had been stolen in years gone by But later showed up in someone's yard on the sly And there it rested for a decade or so Forgotten and lonely, seasonally covered with snow Cemetary records had been burned in a fire So returning the old stone began to look dire We must find Romona, we cannot lose hope Turn to the church, or maybe turn to the Pope With some desperation he looked up and prayed "Please, Dear God, help find where she was laid Help me find Romona and give us all peace She must have her marker for this heartache to cease." With the help of the Lord and many friends He located records drawing close to the end Of a journey to the sweet child's burial plot In Santa Barbara Cemetary on an unkept lot Romona, our child, had some peace at last No longer a spirit that had lost its past And the rose grew larger, and was in full bloom When he held that service on a Sunday afternoon With some desperation he looked up and prayed "Please, Dear God, help find where she was laid Help me find Romona and give us all peace She must have her marker for this heartache to cease." May you rest now dear May you rest now here