Where The Wild Rose Blooms

Where the wild rose blooms
Is the place I go to see them,
To watch them entwined in loving patterns
That have no deepened glooms,
Where they think no one can see them.

Where the wild rose blooms
Is the place I go to watch them,
To see them smiling into each other's eyes,
Walking the forest's rooms,
And laughing that no one can watch them.

Where the wild rose blooms
Is the place I go to guard them,
Where they think no danger can hunt 
Them to death or early tombs,
And where they know no one can guard them.

Where the wild rose blooms
Is the place I go to ward them,
For they think they can just ignore the war
Raging across the dales and coombs.
They are royal; they need none to ward them.

They are royal, the hope of our land,
And could come so easily to early tombs.
But still they need to walk hand in hand
Where the wild rose blooms.

I wish that I did so easily understand;
Then I could speak in a voice that booms.
But I will guard them walking hand in hand
Where the wild rose blooms.