Red rose, red rose,
How do you smell?
Are you sweet, as can be?
Or do your petals reek of Hell?

Red rose, red rose,
Is there a secret to your beauty, something I can't quite match?
Is it in the soil that you grow on,
Or the teardrops that you catch?

Sweet, sweet as can be,
Beautiful from every angle,
You give infinite joy to young lovers,
But they don't know your secret.
If it be the last thing I do,
I shall understand your ways, and so I might learn.

Red rose, red rose,
Oh infinite red of a rose,
I watch you for eternity,
While the world moves around me
And at last, oh at the very last,
I have discovered your secret.

Red rose, red rose,
What dare young lovers to pick you?
It's not the sweet fragrance,
And it's not where you stand.
It's the swords that you carry,
Your daggers of the heart,
Your hidden thorns.
And so they might pick you, and so prick their hands,
To add to your collection of betrayals.

Red rose, red rose,
Are you really red?
Or is the red of this rose
The blood that I shed?