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A pretty blosom was shown unto me
with starlet petals and an emerald stalk
but the pretty bosom turn'd away from me
and down my own path, again I walk

Now every flower, stunning and colourful
in my eye turns into a greyish blur
and nothing, no-one can be that fanciful
that it beats my own 'Belle fleure'

 

Wrote this one while I was inspired by 
William Blakes poem: My pretty Rose Tree.
A flower was offer'd to me
as pretty as may never bore
but I said 'I've got a pretty rose tree'
And I passed the sweet flower o'er

And I went to my pretty rose tree
to tend her by day and by night
but my rose turn'd 'way in jealousy
and her thorns were my only delight
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