(ballad Of The Red Rose Cont.)
As the years rolled past and his hair turned gray,
He never was lonely again,
For often he caught that fragrance so sweet
And knew she was still close to him.
Then, one evening, she came with arms outstretched
As she beckoned, "it's time, dear, to go."
He breathed his last breath and followed her,
Through the years he had loved her so.
When they found his cold body next morning
His face set in peaceful repose,
Someone said, "What's this?" and on the floor,
Lay the petals of a lovely red rose.