Tom Jones - Spanish Harlem

There is a rose in Spanish Harlem A red rose up 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 gleaming It's growing in the street right up through the concrete But soft and sweet and dreamin' There is a rose in Spanish Harlem A red rose up in Spanish Harlem With eyes as black as coal that look down in my soul And starts a fire there and then I lose control I have to beg your pardon I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden There is a rose in Spanish Harlem There is a rose in Spanish Harlem