Between Mobile and Galveston there is a
Big garden with roses galore
It also contains a country house
Itself a big rose
A woman often strolls
All alone through the garden
And when I walk past on the road that's fringed with lime trees
We look at each other
Because that woman's a Mennonite
Her rosebushes and her garments have no buttons
Two are missing from my jacket
The lady and I observe almost the same rite