There is a rose in spanish harlemA rose that grows in spanish harlemIt’s never seen the sunIt only comes up when the moon is on the runAnd all the stars are leavingWell, it grows right in the streetUp between the concreteBut soft and sweet, and (breathing? ? )There is a rose in spanish harlemA rose that grows in spanish harlemOh, with eyes as black as coalThat reach down in my soulAnd start a fire I can’t controlI beg your pardonWell, I want to pick that roseAnd watch her as she growsIn my gardenThere is a rose in spanish harlemThere is a rose in spanish harlem