When I was in my prime
I flourished like a vine
There came along a false, young man
That stole the heart of mine
That stole the heart of mine
The gardener standing by
Three choices he offered me
The pink, the violet, and red rose, which I refused all three
Which I refused all three

The pink's no flower at all
For it fades away too soon
The violet is too pale a hue
I think I'll wait 'til June
I think I'll wait 'til June

In June, the red rose blooms
That's not the flower for me
I think I'll pull the red rose up and plant a willow tree
And plant a willow tree
And the willow tree shall weep
And the willow tree shall whine
I wish I was in the young man's arm
That stole the heart of mine
That stole the heart of mine
If I should last for one year more
And God should grant me grace
I'll save enough crystal tears
To wash His deceitful face
To wash His deceitful face