When the stone is grown too cold to meet, in crystal waters I'll be bound.
Cold as stone and weary to the sound.
Now be thankful all good things below, now be thankful to your maker.
All the rose, the red rose blooms for all to lose.
When the fire is grown too fierce to breathe, in burning irons I'll be bound.
Fierce as fire and weary to the sound.
Now be thankful all good things below, now be thankful to your maker.
All the rose, the red rose blooms for all to lose.
When the stone is grown too cold to meet, in crystal waters I'll be bound.
Cold as stone and weary to the sound.
Now be thankful all good things below, now be thankful to your maker.
All the rose, the red rose blooms for all to lose.