Bum bum bum bum.
Painting the roses red.
We're painting the roses red.
We dare not stop,
Or waste a drop,
So let the paint be spread.
We're painting the roses reeeed.
We're painting the roses red.
Oh, painting the roses red.
And many a tear be shed,
Because we know,
They'll cease to grow,
In fact, they'll soon be dead,
NOOOOO...
And yet we go ahead,
Painting the roses red.
Painting the roses red.
We're painting the roses red.
Oh pardon me,
But Mister Three,
Why must you paint them red?
(Huh?)
(Oooooh!)
(Well, the fact is Miss we planted the white roses by mistake and...)
The Queen she likes 'em red,
If she saw white instead,
She'd raise a fuss,
And each of us,
Would quickly loose his head!
(Goodness)
Since this is the part we dread,
We're painting the roses red.
(Oh dear! Well, then let me help you!)
Painting the roses red.
We're painting the roses red.
Don't tell the Queen,
What you have seen,
Or say that's what we said,
But we're painting the roses red.
Yes, painting the roses red.
Not pink.
Not green.
Not aquamarine.
We're painting the roses red.
