Here in our town she bloomed, a scarlet rose
Among the other girls, and all the men
Who ever looked went crazy for her then,
Like bees that haunt the place where honey grows.
But when she left to dance in burlesque shows,
As shifty as the snow across the track
Of deer, the rumours of her life blew back,
Though what the wind that blew them no one knows.
And slowly to us boys and girls her case
Became a legend of iniquity;
So when her father died and Rose came back
We watched with awe and curiosity
A thin, tall scare-crow dressed in faded black
With tears that trickled down her withered face.