Bitter Roses
Walking down the street with a basket on my arm
Filled to the brim with black roses
The stems were covered in thorns
And the petals were ripe with the stench of decay
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
I came upon my friends, chatting at the street corner
"Will you buy my bitter roses?" I asked them
But their baskets were already filled with their own bitter roses
They had no room for mine
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
I came to the town square
I saw the little girl Pleasure playing in the road
"Will you buy my bitter roses?" I asked her
She took the basket, ran around with it, then gave it back to me
And bounced off, laughing, to find another game
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
The Lord Power and the Lady Wealth
Chanced to cross my path
"Will you buy my bitter roses?" I asked them
The Lord and Lady simply turned their noses up at me
Then turned their backs and went on their way
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
Who will buy my selfishness?
Who will buy my greed?
Who will buy my anger, my distress, my worry, and my sorrow?
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
But though I shouted this out time and again
No one would buy my bitter roses
At last, I came to a stop
And sat down in an alleyway
Frustrated, exhausted, and deeply hurt
I gave myself up to tears
Then along came a man
A peasant man
Just an ordinary man
Nothing special about him
Nothing except for the fact that he carried with him
Two baskets
Filled to the brim
With red roses
With sweet red roses
Crimson and fragrant
With bright blooms that burst
And lush green leaves and silken stems
He came up to me
Sat down next to me
And with concern in his face and voice, asked me,
"Why are you crying?"
"I'm crying because no one will buy my bitter roses," I told him
"My friends' baskets are full
Pleasure is too busy at play
And Lord Power and Lady Wealth don't care."
"Well, I don't have any money," the man replied,
"But I have these sweet red roses
Why don't we make a deal?
I'll give you my roses if you'll give me yours."
"You're crazy!" I told him
He laughed
"Actually, it's a pretty good trade
"You see, I collect roses like yours."
He opened up his tattered coat
And I saw that his arms were lined with baskets
Each basket was filled to the brim with
Bitter black roses
Reluctantly, I handed over my basket of bitter roses
The man smiled as my basket joined the others under his coat
Then he turned and walked away
Leaving me with two baskets full of sweet red roses
Walking down the street with a basket on my arm
Filled to the brim with black roses
The stems were covered in thorns
And the petals were ripe with the stench of decay
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
I came upon my friends, chatting at the street corner
"Will you buy my bitter roses?" I asked them
But their baskets were already filled with their own bitter roses
They had no room for mine
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
I came to the town square
I saw the little girl Pleasure playing in the road
"Will you buy my bitter roses?" I asked her
She took the basket, ran around with it, then gave it back to me
And bounced off, laughing, to find another game
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
The Lord Power and the Lady Wealth
Chanced to cross my path
"Will you buy my bitter roses?" I asked them
The Lord and Lady simply turned their noses up at me
Then turned their backs and went on their way
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
Who will buy my selfishness?
Who will buy my greed?
Who will buy my anger, my distress, my worry, and my sorrow?
"Who will buy my bitter roses? Who will buy my bitter roses?"
I called as I walked down the street
But though I shouted this out time and again
No one would buy my bitter roses
At last, I came to a stop
And sat down in an alleyway
Frustrated, exhausted, and deeply hurt
I gave myself up to tears
Then along came a man
A peasant man
Just an ordinary man
Nothing special about him
Nothing except for the fact that he carried with him
Two baskets
Filled to the brim
With red roses
With sweet red roses
Crimson and fragrant
With bright blooms that burst
And lush green leaves and silken stems
He came up to me
Sat down next to me
And with concern in his face and voice, asked me,
"Why are you crying?"
"I'm crying because no one will buy my bitter roses," I told him
"My friends' baskets are full
Pleasure is too busy at play
And Lord Power and Lady Wealth don't care."
"Well, I don't have any money," the man replied,
"But I have these sweet red roses
Why don't we make a deal?
I'll give you my roses if you'll give me yours."
"You're crazy!" I told him
He laughed
"Actually, it's a pretty good trade
"You see, I collect roses like yours."
He opened up his tattered coat
And I saw that his arms were lined with baskets
Each basket was filled to the brim with
Bitter black roses
Reluctantly, I handed over my basket of bitter roses
The man smiled as my basket joined the others under his coat
Then he turned and walked away
Leaving me with two baskets full of sweet red roses