Love burns in a young man's heart,
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He would give her the moon and the stars,
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And all the Treasures of the Pharaohs for a moment in her arms;
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To the Ball with him she will go, if her brings a red, red rose,
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But there is only a rose of white in his garden green;
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And calling up to the sky, the birds heard his lonely cry;
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"Sing for her sweet Nightingale, tell her of my love,
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Bring for her sweet Nightingale a red, red rose of love;
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Said the tree to the Nightingale,
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"Upon this thorn you must impale your heart,
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And then the blood will turn this white rose red;"
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All night, the little bird sang,
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But in the morning she was gone,
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And beside her on the ground lay a red, red rose;
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When the boy found it there, joy came from his despair;
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"You sang for her, sweet Nightingale,
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You told her of my love,
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You bring for her, sweet Nightingale,
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This red, red rose of love;"
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So he brought her the beautiful rose,
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"To the Ball with me you will go,"
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"But no," she said, "I have jewels instead,
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Another has won my heart, and from you,
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Now I must part, so take your foolish rose and go!"
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Sing for her sweet Nightingale,
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Sing from Heaven above,
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Bring for her sweet Nightingale,
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The wisdom that is love, the wisdom that is love.
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The Nightingale
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| Chris De Burgh |
