Bette Midler - The rose

Some ^Dmsay ^Clove, it ^Fis ^Ca ri-^Gver, that ^Fdrowns, the ^Dmten-^Cder reed, Some ^Dmsay ^Clove, it ^Fis ^Ca raz^Gor, that ^Fleaves, your ^Dmsoul ^Cto bleed. Some ^Fsay ^Emlove, it is a ^Amhun-^Am7ger, ^Aman ^Fend^Cless ^Dmach—^Dm7ing ^Gneed, ^CI ^Dmsay ^Clove, it ^Fis ^Ca flo^Gwer, and ^Fyou, it's ^Gon-^Cly seed.

It's ^Dmthe ^Cheart, a^Ffraid ^Cof brea^Gking, that ^Fnever, ^Dmlearns ^Cto dance, It's ^Dmthe ^Cdream, a^Ffraid ^Cof wa^Gking, that ^Fnever, ^Dmtakes ^Cthe chance. It's ^Fthe ^Emone, who won't be ^Amta-^Am7ken, ^Amwho ^Fcan-^Cnot ^Dmseem ^Dm7to ^Ggive, ^CAnd ^Dmthe ^Csoul, a^Ffraid ^Cof dy^Ging, that ^Fnever, ^Glearns ^Cto live.

When ^Dmthe ^Cnight, has ^Fbeen ^Ctoo lone^Gly, and the ^Froad, has ^Dmbeen ^Ctoo long, And ^Dmyou ^Cthink, that ^Flove ^Cis on-^Gly, for the ^Flucky, ^Dmand ^Cthe strong. Just ^Fre-^Emmember, in the ^Amwin-^Am7ter, ^Amfar be^Fneath, ^Cthe ^Dmbit-^Dm7ter ^Gsnows, ^CLies ^Dmthe ^Cseed, that ^Fwith ^Cthe sun's ^Glove, In the ^Fspring, be^Gcomes ^Cthe rose. ^{F G C}