The Rose Tree
O WORDS are lightly spoken,
Said Pearse to olly,
Maybe a breath of politic words
Has withered our Rose Tree;
Or maybe but a wind that blows
Across the bitter sea.
"It o be but watered,
James olly replied,
"To make the green e out again
And spread on every side,
And shake the blossom from the bud
To be the gardens pride.
"But where we draw water,
Said Pearse to olly,
"When all the wells are parched away?
O plain as plain be
Theres nothing but our own red blood
make a right Rose Tree.