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| Down in old southern Texas I wandered on day |
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| where the tropic | al sea breezes blow. |
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| I there fell in love with a flower s | o rare, |
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| and they call her the Galveston | rose. |
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| Her heart was as true as her blue smiling | eyes, |
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| and as pure | as the lily that grows. |
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| And the finest of gold could in no way compare |
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| with the curls of my Galveston | rose. |
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| I grew jealou | s and falsely accused her | one day. |
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| Said her love | I no longer should know. |
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| I've been true please believe me her little heart cri | ed, |
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| but I left her, my Galvest | on rose. |
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| Little then did I think that some time I'd re | pay |
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| and would reap e | very sorrow and care. |
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| But as years past along I grew lonely each da | y |
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| for the one I had left waitin | g there. |
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| So I wro | te to my darling and said I was wro | ng. |
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| I'll ret | urn dear if you'll only wait. |
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| But soon came a letter my flower had died |
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| and these are the words that | I read. |
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| Your sweet | heart is peacefully sleeping tonigh | t |
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| in a grav | e where the white violets grow. |
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| And enclosed there's a curl as a token of love |
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| and a note from your Galveston ros | e. |
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| I was innoce | nt dear though you left me alone, |
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| but reme | mber I loved only you. |
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| And the lock that's enclosed is a curl from the r | ose |
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| who'll be waiting in heaven f | or you. |
| Billy Evans (bevans@austin.cc.tx.us) |