As I wake to a sunny day,
a crisp and cool day, I may say;
I dress and go to the garden-
ad I gaze upon the beauty,
I see a beautiful gift sent to me-
you my dear, swing thing;
sent down on angel's graceful wings,
to a lovely tune that a nightingale sings-
Yes you my red rose.
You the one who makes my heart sing.
To a red rose,
my favorite of them all,
as I walk in the meadow of love,
no other flower compares to your own
beauty and color;
so pure and lovely
I shed a tear for you
my red, red rose;
I love you.