Lyrics:

She was a flower for the takin',
Her beauty cut just like a knife
He was a banker from Macon,
He swore he'd love her all a his life

He bought her a mansion on the mountain,
With a formal garden and a lot a land

But paradise became her prison, that Georgia banker was a jealous man!

Every time he'd talk about her,
You could see the fire in his eyes
He'd say,

'I would walk through Hell on Sunday, to keep my Rose in Paradise

He hired a man to tend the garden,
And keep an eye on her while he was gone

Some say they ran away together
Some say that gardener left alone

Now the banker is an old man
That mansion's crumbling down

He sits all day and he stares at the garden
Not a trace of her was
Ever found

Every time he'd talk about her,
You could see the fi-er in his eyes
He'd say,

'I would walk through Hell on Sunday,
To keep my Rose in Paradise

Now there's a rose out in the garden
Its beauty cuts just like a knife

They say that it even grows in the winter time
And blooms in the dead of the night