O Rose, I know your claim to fame

Is your smell by any other name.

And Honeysuckle I know of your,

Fragrance so clean and pure.

All the accolades you're served

Are very much deserved

And in no way do I seek to steal

Your reputations both so real.

Your flowering times I enjoy

And in no way am I shy or coy

About your historic roles

In loves and wars of Ol'---.

But to that intoxicating smell

Of another you do pale;

By the Fringe you are out illumed

As a star is by the moon.

Yes, there is no earthly yeast

That calms the savage beast,

That warms the coldest breast,

That gives those weary rest,

That swathes the broken heart,

That sweetens those most tart,

That oils the squeaking hinge---,

Like the Fragrance of the Fringe.