Upon this wizened, ancient lyre I'll sing the ballad of the Roses, till I tire Each one of them a blessing true Working diligently for the life of every one of you A true Rose is a beating heart In which lust for justice bubbles, brews
In Parliament, they call them Labour But a Rose is anybody whose heart harbours A love of life and all it's creatures Considering the workers to be teachers Imparting the wisdom of their experience Marx, the most exquisite of their preachers
His words shine bright and cast a light Upon the path of destiny, he predicts workers delight But not before the struggle, toil The quest for righteousness embroils All human hearts in earnest endeavour Across the worlds sands and soils
O rustic Roses, I worship and adore you If you have time, allow me to implore you To see yourselves the way I see Creatures of brilliance and majesty Who devote themselves to the truest fight For workers wage and workers right Long may your light shine at me