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She was a flower for the takin'
Her beauty cut just like a knife
And he was a banker from Macon
Swore he'd love her all his life

Bought her a mansion on a mountain
With a formal garden and a lot a land

But paradise became her prison
That Georgia banker was a jealous man

Every time he'd talk about her,
You could see the fire in his eyes
He'd say,
I would walk through Hell on Sunday,
To keep my rose in paradise

He hired a man to tend the garden,
To keep an eye on her while he was gone
Some say they ran away together
Some say that gardener left alone

Now the banker is an old man
And the mansion's crum-ble-ing down
He sits all day and stares at the garden
Not a trace of her was ever found

Every time he talks about her
You can see the fire in his eyes
He'd say, "I would walk through Hell on Sunday
To keep my rose in paradise

Now there's a rose out in the garden
Its beauty cuts just like a knife
They say that it even grows in the winter time
And blooms in the dead of the night

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