Roses are red, and violets are blue,
Primroses pale on a velvet green hue,
Warm summer days by cool waterfalls,
Like the music we hear,
Those things we'll always hold dear,
Like an old fashioned waltz.
When the moonlight shines down
on the Hollywood world,
And the heroine waits for her beau to return,
And violins play from behind garden walls,
How I'd love to remain with the silver refrain
of an old fashioned waltz.
As they dance round the floor,
and there's no-one else there,
and the world is no more and there's never a care,
by the perfect lagoon where the nightingale calls,
with only the moon and the nostalgic tune
of an old fashioned waltz.
Roses are red and violets are blue,
