Spanish Harlem     ©J.Leiber/P.Spector

There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
A red rose in Spanish Harlem.
It is a special one, it’s never seen the sun
It only comes out when the moon is on the run
And all the stars are blinking.
It’s growing in the street, right up through the concrete
But soft and sweet and waiting.
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
A red rose in Spanish Harlem.
With eyes as black as coal she looks down in my soul
And starts a fire burning there beyond control
I’ll have to beg your pardon.
I’m going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows
In my garden.
La la la.
There is a rose.