A Rose, As Fair As Ever Saw The North, Grew In A Little Garden All Alone; A Sweeter Flower Did Nature Ne'er Put Forth, Nor Fairer Garden Yet Was Never Known: The Maidens Danc'D About It Morn And Noon, And Learned Bards Of It Their Ditties Made; The Nimble Fairies By The Pale-Faced Moon Water'D The Root And Kiss'D Her Pretty Shade. But Well-A-Day, The Gard'Ner Careless Grew; The Maids And Fairies Both Were Kept Away, And In A Drought The Caterpillars Threw Themselves Upon The Bud And Every Spray. God Shield The Stock! If Heaven Send No Supplies, The Fairest Blossom Of The Garden Dies.