| Lyrics: | (F. Weatherly, H. Wood)
[Recorded June 13, 1962, Los Angeles]
She is watching by the
poplars,
Colinette with the sea-blue eyes,
She is watching and longing, and
waiting
Where the long white roadway lies,
And a song stirs in the silence,
As the wind
in the boughs above,
She listens and starts and trembles,
'Tis the first little song of
love.
Roses are shining in Picardy,
In the hush of the silver dew,
Roses are
flow'ring in Picardy,
But there's never a rose like you!
And the roses will die with the
summertime,
And our roads may be far apart,
But there's one rose that dies not in
Picardy,
'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart
And the years fly on forever,
Till
the shadows veil their skies,
But he loves to hold her little hands,
And look into her
sea-blue eyes,
And she sees the road by the poplars,
Where they met in the bygone
years,
For the first little song of the roses,
Is the last little song she
hears:
Roses are shining in Picardy,
In the hush of the silver dew,
Roses are
flow'ring in Picardy,
But there's never a rose like you!
And the roses will die with the
summertime,
And our roads may be far apart,
But there's one rose that dies not in
Picardy,
'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart |
