When the red rose Bursts its blooming bud And pouring out its thorny golden blood I'll be true blue When the cold and brittle late October sky Crystallizes, snaps and cracks then shatters over you And the heat on Henry Street Melts the tar beneath your feet That bubbles up and then gets stuck to you And the trees hang heavy with their fruit and rain That hovers threateningly over you Then I'll be truly true blue