When I was in my prime I flourished like a vine Along there came a false young man Who stole the heart of mine.(2) The gardener standing by Three offers he made to me The pink, the violet, and red rose To which I refused all three. (2) The pink's no flower at all It fades away too soon The violet is too pale a bloom I think I'll wait till June. (2) In June the red rose blooms But it`s not the flower for me I think I'll pluck the red rose off And plant a willow tree. (4)