No. 23 - Song - Crewe Boodle - "The Queen of June."

Lyrics by Bernard Rolt

[Crewe Boodle:] Out in the garden closes,
Under the drowsy noon
Which is the queen of Roses,
Queen in the land of June,
Will she be tall and stately,
Robed in the crimson red,
Or does she smile sedately
White in a snowy bed?
Is she the bride that the leaves conceal,
Laced with gold of the Marshal Neil?
Rose red, Rose white,
Rose yellow and gold,
Never crown or sceptre shall hold;
For there is one rose, sweet rose,
And she your Queen shall be;
'Tis the blush Rose of England,
And the pick of the bunch for me.

Each in their time and season
Curtsey before her glance,
Ladies of "Gloire de Dijon,"
Damsels of pink "La France."
Blooming in warlike manner
Rivals of long ago,
Lancaster's blood-red banner,
York with her flag of snow,
Ev'ry flow'r that the summer knows,
Crimson rambler and white moss-rose.
Rose red, Rose white,
Rose yellow and gold,
Never crown or sceptre shall hold;
For there is one rose, sweet rose,
And she your Queen shall be;
'Tis the blush Rose of England,
And the pick of the bunch for me.

[Chorus:] Rose red, Rose white,
Rose yellow and gold,
Never crown or sceptre shall hold;
For there is one rose, sweet rose,
And she your Queen shall be;
'Tis the blush Rose of England,
And the pick of the bunch for me.