They called her rose mouth
She put love, she put love
They called her rose mouth
She put love above everything else

As soon as she got off at the station
In the little town of Sant'Ilario
Everyone noticed with one glance
That she was not a missionary

There are those who make love out of boredom
Who choose it as a profession
Rose mouth was neither one nor the other
She did it out of passion

But passion often leads
To satisfying one's own desires
Without investigating whether the desired one
Is free-hearted or has a wife

And so it was that from one day to the next
Rose mouth drew upon herself
The wrath of the little dogs
From whom she had stolen the bone

But the gossips of a small town
Certainly do not shine in initiative
Countermeasures up to that point
Were limited to invective

It is known that people give good advice
Feeling like Jesus in the temple
It is known that people give good advice
If they can no longer set a bad example

So an old woman, never been a wife
Without children, without desires
Took the trouble and certainly the pleasure
To give everyone the right advice

And turning to the cuckolded ones
She addressed them with sharp words
"The theft of love will be punished"
She said "by the established order"

And they went to the commissioner
And said without paraphrasing
"That disgusting woman has too many clients
More than a food consortium"

And four gendarmes arrived
With plumes, with plumes
And four gendarmes arrived
With plumes and with weapons

Often the cops and the carabinieri
Fail in their duty
But not when they are in full uniform
And they escorted her to the first train

At the station everyone was there
From the commissioner to the sacristan
At the station everyone was there
With red eyes and hat in hand

To say goodbye to the one who for a while
Without pretense, without pretense
To say goodbye to the one who for a while
Brought love to the town

There was a yellow sign
With a black inscription
It said "goodbye rose mouth
With you spring leaves"

But a somewhat original news
Doesn't need any newspaper
Like an arrow from a bow
It flies fast from mouth to mouth

And at the next station
Much more people than when she left
Some sent a kiss, some threw a flower
Some booked for two hours

Even the parish priest who does not despise
Between a miserere and an extreme unction
The ephemeral good of beauty
He wants her next to him in procession

And with the Virgin in the front row
And rose mouth not far away
He takes for a walk around the town
The sacred love and the profane love

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