Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

A penny for a rose, my lady

Will feed my family this day

His blue eyes shone from his dark dirty face

From whose garden he stole

the rose I could not say

I gave the penny asked for

He curtsied and moved away

To sell one remaining rose.

I thought of his family waiting

Who will not see him again this day.

The black hackney carriage stole his life

He lay crumpled, rose still held in hand

My penny had rolled away.

No information as to his name could I find

Retrieving my penny from the distance it rolled

I heard a whisper, his mother’s name is Rose

Five children she could feed this day

If this one penny had not gone astray

When he does not return

Wait, she will send another

So, you will find a way to feed the rest this day…