Go son, go down to the water And see the women weeping there Then go up into the mountains The men, they are weeping too Father, why are all the women weeping? They are weeping for their men Then why are all the men there weeping? They are weeping back at them This is a weeping song A song in which to weep While all the men and women sleep This is a weeping song But I won't be weeping long Father, why are all the children weeping? They are merely crying son O, are they merely crying, father? Yes, true weeping is yet to come This is a weeping song A song in which to weep

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They call me the wild rose but my name was Elisa Day Why they call me it I do not know For my name was Elisa Day From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one As she stared in my eyes and smiled For her lips were the colour of the roses That grew down the river, all bloody and wild When he knocked on my door and entered the room My trembling subsided in his sure embrace He would be my first man, and with a careful hand He wiped at the tears that ran down my face On the second day I brought her a flower She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen I said, " Do you know where the wild roses grow So sweet and scarlet and free?" On the second day he came with a single red rose Said:"Will you give me your loss and you sorrow?" I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed He said, "if I show you the roses will you follow?"