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 She was a flower for the takin' 
Her beauty cut just like a knife 
And 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 of 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 the gardener left alone. 
Now the banker is an old man 
And the mansion's crumbling down 
He sits all day and stares at the garden 
Not a trace of her was ever found. 
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'. 
Now there's a rose out in the garden 
It's beauty cuts just like a knife 
They say that it even grows in the winter time 
And blooms in the dead of the night. 
 
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