Written by Chris de Burgh

Hear my voice and listen well, and a story I will tell,
How duty brought a broken heart, and why a love so strong
Must fall apart;

She was lovely, she was fine, daughter of a royal line,
He, no equal, but for them it mattered little for they were in love;

Rose of England, sweet and fair, shining with the sun,
Rose of England, have a care, for where the thorn is,
There the blood will run;

Oh my heart, oh my heart;

Through the summer days and nights, stolen kisses and delights
Would thrill their hearts and fill their dreams with all emotions
That true love can bring;

But black of mourning came one day, when her sister passed away,
And many said on bended knee, she has gone, and you must be our Queen;

Rose of England, sweet and fair, shining with the sun,
Rose of England, have a care, for where the thorn is,
There the blood will run;

Oh my heart, oh my heart;

To the abbey she did ride, with her lover by her side,
When they heard the church bells ring, she was Queen
And one day, he'd be King;

But men of malice, men of hate, protesting to her chambers came,
"A foreign prince will have your hand, for he'll bring peace
And riches to our land?"
She said, "Do you tell me that I cannot wed the one I love?
Do you tell me that I am not mistress of my heart?"

And so with heavy weight of life she kissed her lover one last time,
"This land I wed, and no man comes, for if I cannot have you, I'll have none"?

Rose of England, sweet and fair, shining with the sun,
Rose of England have a care, for where the thorn is,
There the blood will run;

Oh my heart, oh my heart.

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