Reba McEntire - Roses

A soft summer evening, another time, anoth^Fer place He brought her red ^Croses on their very first ^Gdate She got ^Ccarried away by the ^C7things that ^Fhe said Time would e^Crase them, but she would ^Gnever for^Cget

And the ro^Bbses ^Amheard ^Gmit ^Fall The rose in her hair, the rose in her hand The roses in the paper on the ^Cwall There's a story to ^Bbtell^F__ if ^Bbroses could ^Ctalk

Somewhere close to midnight, another time, anoth^Fer place She lays in the ^Cdarkness with tears on her^G face While he ^Ctalks in his sleep, con^C7fessing his^F love He calls out a ^Cname that she's^G never heard^C of

And the ro^Bbses ^Amheard ^Gmit ^Fall The rose in her hair, the rose in her hand The roses in the paper on the ^Cwall There's a story to ^Bbtell^F__ if ^Bbroses could ^Ctalk

^BbShe never told him She ^Fnever let him see her^C cry ^C

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^DmOnly the roses know ^FWhat she kept down ^Ginside

The years took their toll and the angels took her a^Fway Now there's family and ^Cfriends at a cold winter^G's grave He ^Ckneels down and whispers, "You're the ^C7only love that I've^F known" As he lays a ^Crose on a ^Gcold marble^C stone

But the ro^Bbses ^Amheard ^Gmit ^Fall The rose from her garden, the rose in her bible The roses in the paper on the ^Cwall There's a story to ^Bbtell^F__ if ^Bbroses could ^Ctalk What a story they'd ^Bbtell^F if ^Bbroses could ^Ctalk