About this time last year, I heard and met a wonderfully talented and beautiful Austin musician and songwriter, Trish Murphy. I still listen to the three CD’s I purchased then, and I have incorporated a couple of her songs into my own Americana show. Here are the words from her song, St. Francis Rose, a song recorded on her CD, Captured. You can find Trish’s site here:

St. Francis Rose by Trish Murphy

They say St. Francis planted a Rose
She lived in Potter County
Where the wild mesquite grows
An audacious flower, filling up the room
You could not stand downwind from her perfume

She met him in a hardware store in Porter
She let him take her hand and take her home
And he clipped her thorns with a pair of kitchen scissors
And claimed her velvet skin all for his own

CHORUS:
And they say St. Francis planted a rose
So tender and sweet no thorns would it grow
And thornless are the roses that grow upon her grave
Roses are slow to fade

So years went by, but she never lost her beauty.
And though tears she cried he scorned her for her pain
But all the Pekoe tea in Carolina
Could not buy her precious thorns again
So she took her life and pressed herself for him.

CHORUS:

Daisy Chains herself around your heartstrings
Lily of the Valley hangs her head
And Morning Glory fades away
But that’s another story
Roses look good even when they’re dead.
Roses look good even when they’re dead

CHORUS: