'Tis The Last Rose Of Summer sing and play along

'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming a the lone.

All her lovely coming panions are faded and gone.

No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh,

to reflect back her blushes, or give sigh for sigh.

I'll the leave thee, thou lone one,

to pine ships on the stem.

Since the lovely are ing sleeping,

go sleep thou with them.

Thus kinder ly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed

where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead.

lone?