There's a man on the hill
And his pockets are filled up with roses
Though I don't see him often
And I don't think he knows the problem that this poses
For if I had to live without him
I'd want nothing more to do with this mountain
Mr. Rose, I don't suppose
You'd want to spend your afternoon with me?
We can walk through the garden
Begging the pardon of the bluebirds
You'll lay down on the lawn and I'll study your yawn
I wish I'd met you sooner
For Mother and Father just paid off the dowry
But one look at you and my heart goes all flowery
Mr. Rose, I don't suppose
You'd want to break a rule or two tonight?
For my days here are numbered
If I end up under the thumb of a loveless man
Who wants to lock all the doors
I swear I'll run straight into the forest
The surest I've ever felt of myself
Is when you're on my mind
There's a house with a window
And inside that house lives a boy
He might think I can't see when he stares out at me
But oh, how it fills me with joy
For life on the hill can be awfully bereft
Of the moments that wake up an old man's chest
So before my days end
I'll wrap up a rose and send it down the way
To the boy who made me feel like a boy again
