She pleads but they laugh and pull her down And after they've used her briefly and roughly They leave her to face the dawn alone When they have gone she moves on her side Thinks of the men that with her have lain And none of them gave her a kind-worded loving And after they'd done not one of them stayed Once she was wary, chose but a few To roll in her arms at the end of the day But the flower so proud begins now to wither That any may pluck at the petals so gay Alone in the night she muses a while And thinks of the days and how they will pass She cries for the lonely years that awaiting Till death takes her hand and weds her at last Down in the barroom she moves among men Who watch her and touch her whenever they can And she notices hands and mouths as they drink And over the tankards the eyes of each man Speak to me gently before we begin.