I went out for to buy my love a bonny bunch of roses,
All for to leave them by her door, to find tomorrow morn.

Although I can’t tell if she knows, the way my garden’s love it grows
I hope she’ll see the roses so, as a sign of love forlorn.
My darling rose bares a thorn.

The first time that I met my love, a warmth it spread through all of me;
A laughter soft and so refined, and eyes of deepest green.

My love only speaks quietly, but oh the words she’ll choose to speak
She is in truth Calliope, her breath like poetry.
But I, I wish she would see.

The last time that I met my love, I begged her for to leave with me
To take a chance and start again, to leave Bedford behind.

My love bloomed late like rosemary flowers, in winter planted like a seed.
My invitation came too soon, for my love to bear dark leaves.
I hope she leaves with me.

I went out for to buy my love a bonny bunch of roses,
All for to leave them by her door, to find tomorrow morn.
Instead of roses would sweet bluebells,
Have been better for to say farewell?

For either way my love won’t quell,
My train leaves in the morn.