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Hear my voice and listen well,
and a story I will tell,
How duty brought a broken heart,
and why a love so strong
Must fall apart;
She was lovely,
she was fine, daughter of a royal line,
He, no equal, but for them it mattered
little for they were in love;
Rose of England, sweet and fair,
shining with the sun,
Rose of England, have a care,
for where the thorn is,
There the blood will run;
Oh my heart, oh my heart;
Through the summer days and nights,
stolen kisses and delights
Would thrill their hearts
and fill their dreams with all emotions
That true love can bring;
But black of mourning came one day,
when her sister passed away,
And many said on bended knee,
she has gone, and you must be our Queen;
Rose of England, sweet and fair,
shining with the sun,
Rose of England, have a care,
for where the thorn is,
There the blood will run;
Oh my heart, oh my heart;
To the abbey she did ride,
with her lover by her side,
When they heard the church bells ring,
she was Queen
And one day, he’d be King;
But men of malice, men of hate,
protesting to her chambers came,
“A foreign prince will have your hand,
for he’ll bring peace
And riches to our land;”
She said, “Do you tell me
that I cannot wed the one I love?
Do you tell me
that I am not mistress of my heart?”
And so with heavy weight of life
she kissed her lover one last time,
“This land I wed, and no man comes,
for if I cannot have you, I’ll have
none;”
Rose of England, sweet and fair,
shining with the sun,
Rose of England have a care,
for where the thorn is,
There the blood will run;
Oh my heart, oh my heart.
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