| There is a red rose
|
| In my garden
|
| A pretty, pretty red rose
|
| There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
|
| A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
|
| It is a special one
|
| It never sees the sun
|
| It only comes up when the moon is on its run
|
| And all the stars are beaming, beaming
|
| It grows up in the street
|
| Right up through the concrete
|
| But soft and dreaming
|
| There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
|
| A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
|
| With eyes black as coal
|
| That look down in my soul
|
| And starts a fire there and then I lose control
|
| And then I have to beg your pardon
|
| I’m goin' to pick that rose
|
| And watch her as she grows
|
| In my garden
|
| There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
|
| A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
|
| It is a special one
|
| It never sees the sun
|
| It only comes up when the moon is on its run
|
| And all the stars are beaming, beaming
|
| I’m goin' to pick that rose
|
| And watch her as she grows
|
| In my garden
|
| La la la, la la la, la la la la
|
| La la la, la la la, la la la la
|
| La la la, la la la, la la la la
|
| La la la, la la la, la la la la
|
| It is a special one
|
| It never sees the sun
|
| It only comes up when the moon is on its run
|
| And all the stars are beaming, beaming
|
| It grows up in the street
|
| Right up through the concrete
|
| But soft and dreaming
|
| There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
|
| A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
|
| With eyes black as coal
|
| That look down in my soul
|
| And starts a fire there and then I lose control
|
| And then I have to beg your pardon, pardon
|
| I’m goin' to pick that rose
|
| And watch her as she grows
|
| In my garden
|
| La la la, la la la, la la la la
|
| La la la, la la la, la la la la
|
| La la la, la la la, la la la la
|
| La la la, la la la, la la la la |