Daisy, Daisy, how lovely
to be a banal child.
Safe from harm and hurt and death,
your roots do hold you wild.
Your life doth last some while
as you carry on
nourished by your parent ground;
shan't your woes be gone?
But oh, how lovely it would be
to be the blessed Rose;
what charm, what awe, what livelihood
one of that kind knows.
Daisy, Daisy, how lovely
to live a mundane while.
Your beauty lies in lengthy life,
your commonplace beguiles.