They say st. francis planted a rose
she lived in potter county where the wild mesquite grows
an audacious flower filling up the room
you could not stand downwind from her perfume
Well she met him in a hardware store in porter
and she let him take her hand and take her home
and he clipped her thorns with a pair of kitchen scissors
and claimed her velvet skin all for his own
And they say st. francis planted a rose
so tender and sweet, no thorns would it grow
and thornless are the roses that grow upon her grave
roses are slow to fade
So years went by, but she never lost her beauty
and though tears she cried he scorned her for her pain
but all the picot tea in carolina
could not buy her precious thorns again
so she took her life and pressed herself for him
And they say st. francis planted a rose
so tender and sweet, no thorns would it grow
and thornless are the roses that grow upon her grave
roses are slow to fade
Daisy chains herself 'round your heartstrings
and lily of the valley hangs her head
and morning glory fades away, but that's another story
roses look good even when they're dead
Roses look good even when they're dead
And they say st. francis planted a rose
so tender and sweet, no thorns would it grow
and thornless are the roses that grow upon her grave
roses are slow to fade