Janice Rose, all proud and true
Comb your hair to ease the blues
Fragrant pastles blessed with hue
With shades of grey and blossomed days
Paint your face and mark your eyes
Slap the gel into your thighs
Rub the creams that others dream
Then slowly watch your lovers gleam
Janice Rose, now your old
Rub the ointments on your toes
Then roll your headscarf for the cold
Sunken eyes and wrinkled brow
Hospice tear drops without the frowns
As matrons sing and lovers cry.
Leave the letters on the floor
As dearest husbands await your call.
For debts to pay, they cannot wait
For now you are broke without a hope
Except your prayers for God and pope
Save your farthings for the dead
Trinket jewellery that fool your friends
Laid to waste on pendent flesh
Pray the doorman, be polite
Who shifts your body out of sight
Fidget more within the gloom
As people pray within your room
Lay a wreath for those who grief
That they be known by all their moans
How righteous be the ones that be
That lay a Rose for Janice Rose
Written By George
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