[bad word]  
They call me The Wild Rose 
But my name was Elisa Day 
Why they call me it I do not know 
For my name was Elisa Day 

From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one 
As she stared in my eyes and smiled 
For her lips were the colour of the roses 
They grew down the river, all bloody and wild 

When he knocked on my door and entered the room 
My trembling subsided in his sure embrace 
He would be my first man, and with a careful hand 
He wiped the tears that ran down my face 
 [bad word] 

On the second day I brought her a flower 
She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen 
I said, 'Do you know where the wild roses grow 
So sweet and scarlet and free?' 

On the second day he came with a single rose 
Said: 'Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?' 
I nodded my head, as I layed on the bed 
He said, 'If I show you the roses will you follow?' 
 [bad word] 

On the third day he took me to the river 
He showed me the roses and we kissed 
And the last thing I heard was a muttered word 
As he stood smiling above me with a rock in his fist 

On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow 
And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief 
As I kissed her goodbye, I said, 'All beauty must die' 
And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth 
 [bad word]