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
She stared in my eyes
and smiled
For her lips
were the colour of the roses
That 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 at 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 red rose
Said: "Will you give me your loss
and your sorrow\"
I nodded my head, as I lay
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 knelt 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
And I kissed her goodbye,
said, "All beauty must die"
And lent down and planted a rose
between her teeth
 [bad word]