Within a pleasant garden grew
A gorgeous English rose,
But who had put this rose bush there?
The truth is: no-one knows!
Its flowers were of the deepest red;
Its leaves were emerald green
And of all the roses in the world
It was the best we’d seen.
Its perfume carried on the breeze;
Bees came from far and wide
And the rose bush felt formidable;
Its flowers blushed red with pride.
The other pretty flowers soon saw
How haughty it became.
This snooty rose, so full of pride,
Said things to cause them shame.
It spread its roots beneath the soil
And killed the other flowers
And it soon became abominable
Because of all its power.
One day the owner of the house
Decided what he’d do.
He bought a pair of secateurs
And cut the rose bush through.
'You've taken over everything.
You’re arrogant, you’re proud!
You’ve sent your roots to where you know
They’re really not allowed.'
'You thought you were the king of plants
Above the flowers I love,'
And as the rosebush fell to earth
These words rained from above.
It’s sad to say that pride can grow
And soon become conceit,
So, when you venture on this path,
Watch where you plant your feet.
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