(F. Weatherly, H. Wood)
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[Recorded June 13, 1962, Los Angeles]
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She is watching by the poplars,
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Colinette with the sea-blue eyes,
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She is watching and longing, and waiting
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Where the long white roadway lies,
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And a song stirs in the silence,
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As the wind in the boughs above,
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She listens and starts and trembles,
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'Tis the first little song of love.
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Roses are shining in Picardy,
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In the hush of the silver dew,
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Roses are flow'ring in Picardy,
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But there's never a rose like you!
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And the roses will die with the summertime,
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And our roads may be far apart,
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But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy,
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'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart
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And the years fly on forever,
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Till the shadows veil their skies,
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But he loves to hold her little hands,
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And look into her sea-blue eyes,
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And she sees the road by the poplars,
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Where they met in the bygone years,
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For the first little song of the roses,
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Is the last little song she hears:
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Roses are shining in Picardy,
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In the hush of the silver dew,
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Roses are flow'ring in Picardy,
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But there's never a rose like you!
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And the roses will die with the summertime,
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And our roads may be far apart,
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But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy,
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'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart
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Roses Of Picardy
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Frank Sinatra |