Summer Roses

It was his nineteenth August--a blind fire burning in his soul 
She was a woman of twenty one--flashing eyes as black as coal
She had been to London and learned the fashions there
And she wore summer roses, summer roses in her hair.


And he was like a sailor--drunk with their perfume
He fought his pounding heart as she showed him to her room
And he would long remember the pleasures they found there
Among the summer roses, summer roses from her hair. 


Surely as the warm days ebb and the mist flows from the sea
She soon was swept away by a grown man of twenty-three
It broke his heart completely, that fair-weather love affair
It died before the roses, summer roses in her hair.


So guard your heart from the blooming flower and of its thorns beware
Be sure its love you love and not just roses, summer roses in her hair.