They say St. Francis planted a Rose

She lived in Potter County where the wild mesquite grows

An audacious flower filling up the room

You could not stand downwind from her perfume

Well she met him in a hardware store in Porter

And she let him take her hand and take her home

And he clipped her thorns with a pair of kitchen scissors

And claimed her velvet skin all for his own

And they say St. Francis planted a Rose

So tender and sweet, no thorns would it grow

And thornless are the roses that grow upon her grave

Roses are slow to fade

So years went by, but she never lost her beauty

And though tears she cried he scorned her for her pain

But all the picot tea in Carolina

Could not buy her precious thorns again

So she took her life and pressed herself for him

And they say St. Francis planted a Rose

So tender and sweet, no thorns would it grow

And thornless are the roses that grow upon her grave

Roses are slow to fade

Daisy chains herself 'round your heartstrings

And Lily Of The Valley hangs her head

And Morning Glory fades away, but that's another story

Roses look good even when they're dead

Roses look good even when they're dead

And they say St. Francis planted a Rose

So tender and sweet, no thorns would it grow

And thornless are the roses that grow upon her grave

Roses are slow to fade