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Dog-Eared Rose

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I saw a dog-eared rose Burnt by the sun and the rays that it broke Lipped by the wind and the dust that it blowed Covered in scratches across her sweet nose One cheek was sagging, depressed by the heat The other was beauty before she met beat Like a good book that's been loved for too long Some of her pages were tattered or gone Gathered around were the trails of the dead Withering warnings of how things could end Some had been lost to the cold bitter truth Others were plucked by the greediest fools On her slim body a trap she had laid A thorn for each day of the month she had stayed One for the rabbit and one for the deer One for the dogs who'd come dangerously near Now this old rose with the ears of a dog Can still hear the thrush as he sings his sweet song Still stands as tall as the neighboring trees Still has the prickles to fight off the bees So don't you go picking old Rosie for me Now this old rose with the ears of a dog Can still hear the thrush as he sings his sweet song Still stands as tall as the neighboring trees Still has the prickles to fight off the bees So don't you go picking old Rosie for me