Chapter 40

There is a rose in Spanish Harlem,

a rose in black and Spanish Harlem.

It is a special one,

it never sees the sun

it only comes out

when the moon is on the run

and all the stars are gleaming.

It's growing in the street

right up through the concrete

soft, sweet and dreaming.

With eyes as black as coal

they look down in my soul a

and start a fire there

and then I lose control

I want to beg her pardon

I'm going to pick that rose

and watch her as she grows in my garden.

There is a rose in Spanish Harlem,

a rose in black and Spanish Harlem.

It is a special one,
it never sees the sun

it only comes out
when the moon is on the run
and all the stars are gleaming.

It's growing in the street
right up through the concrete
soft, sweet and dreaming.

With eyes as black as coal
they look down in my soul

and start a fire there
and then I lose control

I want to beg her pardon
I'm going to pick that rose
and watch her as she grows in my garden.