There's a man on the hill And his pockets are filled up with roses Though I don't see him often And I don't think he knows the problem that this poses For if I had to live without him I'd want nothing more to do with this mountain Mr. Rose, I don't suppose You'd want to spend your afternoon with me? We can walk through the garden Begging the pardon of the bluebirds You'll lay down on the lawn and I'll study your yawn I wish I'd met you sooner For Mother and Father just paid off the dowry But one look at you and my heart goes all flowery Mr. Rose, I don't suppose You'd want to break a rule or two tonight? For my days here are numbered If I end up under the thumb of a loveless man Who wants to lock all the doors I swear I'll run straight into the forest The surest I've ever felt of myself Is when you're on my mind There's a house with a window And inside that house lives a boy He might think I can't see when he stares out at me But oh, how it fills me with joy For life on the hill can be awfully bereft Of the moments that wake up an old man's chest So before my days end I'll wrap up a rose and send it down the way To the boy who made me feel like a boy again