Roses red, roses red,
Whisper how you're growing!
Then I can tell
Dear little Nell,
And we shall both be knowing.
Roses red, roses red,
Some folks say you're fleeting!
But we have come
To take you home,
And keep the summer's greeting.
Roses red, roses red,
Say, why are you dying?
If I could tell
Poor little Nell,
Perhaps 't would stop her crying.
From my personal collection of ephemera. These images are to be incorporated into your creative endeavors and not for resale or re-distribution "as-is". Please credit FieldandGarden.com as your source when sharing or publishing.