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