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There is a rose in Spanish Harlem |
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A red rose up in Spanish Harlem |
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It is the special one, it's never seen the sun |
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It only comes up when the moon is on the run |
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And all the stars are gleaming |
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It's growing in the street |
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Right up through the concrete |
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But soft and sweet and dreamy |
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There is a rose in Spanish Harlem |
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A red rose up in Spanish Harlem |
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With eyes as black as coal that touch down in my soul |
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And starts a fire there and then I lose control |
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I have to beg your pardon |
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I'm going to pick that rose |
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And watch her as she grows |
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In my garden |
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I'm going to pick that rose |
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And watch her as she grows |
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In my garden |
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There is a rose in Spanish Harlem |
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(La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la) |
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There is a rose in Spanish Harlem |
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(La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la) |
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There is a rose in Spanish Harlem |
