Fine English rose in rich soil she grows
Old walls shield her from the wind that blows
Resulting cultivation supplied with every need
Seeking for a weed that's of the right seed
Proud purple thistle it's wiser not to pluck
Growing where she can, she never waits for luck
Brought up in a hard school thistle down the wind
Raised on blunt words more sinned against than sinned
Chorus:
Stinking plants in the hedgerows
With grim grit will flourish
While nicely bred orchids
Wilt in the front window florist
But dark mother earth
Will catch them all up
And trample them back into the forest
The vamp of vegetation the scarlet poppy flirts
Laughs as she dances flaunting flimsy skirts
Tempting the senses with her milk white juice
Sensual opium determined to seduce
Independent wallflower careered through her youth
And caught unawares she turns to face the truth
Laughs at the battle of the sexes, but listens for the sound
Of strife and separation to declare the second round