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In a flield of green a flower grows,
like my love for you it blooms.
In a clouded sky the sun is high,
shining on a Rose in June.
Then when winter comes and petals fall,
and this lonely flower is bare,
I know come spring the wheather will bring,
sweet times and love in the air.
Then when she arrives I will not need,
a bouquet of orchids of blue,
right beside a Rose in June,
right beside a Rose in June.

When the summer breeze
blows through the trees,
and the robins sing their tune,
I seem to recall a sleepy dream,
scented like a Rose in June.
Then when she arrives I will not need,
a bouquet of orchids of blue,
right beside a Rose in June,
right beside a Rose in June.

When the summer breeze
blows through the trees,
and the robins sing their tune,
I seem to recall a sleepy dream.
Scented like a Rose in June.
Scented like a Rose in June.
Scented like a Rose in June.

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