SHE BAKES ME BREAD
My Rose, she bakes me crusty bread
All fresh and warm and sweet
With butter from the milking-cow
Melting in its heat
My Rose, she sings me lulla-bys,
To help me fall asleep
When my mind is troubled by
Stress, anger or worry
I love her with all of my heart
And when my Rose is dead
I'll think of her and remember
When my Rose baked me bread