High upon a hill in spring br The garden sits in view. br Birds are madly chirping br And the roses full of dew. br br They glisten in the morning light br Their color shining thru. br The darling buds of pink and white br Red and yellows too. br br Those magic little faces br That poke right out at you. br Smiling as you pass them br Enchanting thru and thru. br br Hoping for selection br So ready to enhance. br Wish that things were different br You wouldn’t stand a chance. br br When you have a name my friend br They’ll let you enter then. br Not enough you’ve passed the test br Or outshone all of them. br br I’m sorry little rose of mine br Alas it is but true. br You’ll never get to be a Queen br Without a name for you.