Une rose que l'on cueille La derniere d'un bel ete Une rose qui s'effeuille Avant meme d'avoir ete Plus un chant dans le vent d'automne Plus d'oiseaux
Si demain tu cueilles une rose Dont le coeur est deja fane, Dis-toi bien que cette rose Est la derniere de l'ete Hier encore au voisinage Fleurissait
: Si demain tu cueilles une rose Dont le coeur est deja fane, Dis-toi bien que cette rose Est la derniere de l'ete Hier encore au voisinage Fleurissait
'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone All her lovely companions are faded and gone No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh To reflect
sky As summer goes And leave me With a tear in my eye I'm taking out my winter clothes My garden knows what's wrong The petals of my favorite rose
toi Qui me conduira ce soir chez moi Garde bien la derniere danse pour moi Ya, ya, ya, ya Ya, ya, ya, ya Ya, ya, ya, ya Tout l'amour que j'ai pour
printemps la rose est eclose En ete, le coquelicot Mais quel spectacle grandiose De voir fleurir les haricots Plus tard les paysans de France S'agenouillant, courbant le dos Ont l
A l?ecole, on a botte l?cul d?la pop conne Et on l?a mis en image, on le projette, tiens les pop corns, On l?dit en visage, pas d?arrangement, pas de
It is the last rose of summer left blooming alone All her lovely companions are faded and gone No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh To reflect
'Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming all alone All her lovely companions Are faded and gone No flower of her kindred No rose bud is nigh To reflect
?Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming all alone, All her lovely companions Are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, No rose bud is nigh, To
'Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone All her lovely companions Are faded and gone No flower of her kindred No rosebud is nigh To reflect
my voice by virtue of my birth. I can honestly say, with great pride, that I have inherited my dear father's voice. "The Last Rose Of Sumer", the last
voice by virtue of my birth. I can honestly say, with great pride, that I have inherited my dear father's voice. "the last rose of sumer",
'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions are faded and gone; No flow'r of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh To reflect