Might be a few here you already have, but overall, I think these
should do the trick:
We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the
horizon-instead of enjoying the roses blooming outside our windows
See that roses really smell like boo-boo
Yeah, roses really smell like boo-boo
A revolution is not a bed of roses.
Roses are red, and how do you do? Drink four of these, and Woo woo woo woo!
The sun on your withers
The wind in your mane
Could never prepare you
For what lies ahead
The run for the roses so red --
And it's run for the roses
As fast as you can
Your fate is delivered
Your moment's at hand
It's the chance of a lifetime
In a lifetime of chance
And it's high time you joined
In the dance
I want to lay you on a bed of roses
The roses come to see me And I can't wait for a sunny day
And everytime I see a rose I see her smilin' face
She made my darkest days look bright round the old homeplace
Don't step on mother's roses let them grow
The way they did since many years ago
They'll bloom for me each year and I'll have mother near
Don't step on mother's roses let them grow
Hello you said the day we met
Handing me a yellow rose
You asked me out
And to your surprise
And to mine I said I'd go
I thought it so romantic
And I found you sweet and bold
Though we'd only met
I still said yes
To a single yellow rose
The roses, the lovely notes, the dining and dancing are all welcome
and splendid. But when the Godiva is gone, the gift of real love is
having someone who'll go the distance with you. Someone who, when the
wedding day limo breaks down, is willing to share a seat on the bus.
Roses. Don't talk to me about roses - big painful, thorny roses. I'm
the world's first human vase.
Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. I sent roses. Did she get the roses?
Just get her a dozen roses.
Roses are red, violets are blue, Jazz and I are black but Carlton what are you?
It came in the mail today, it's uh, 72 long-stemmed red roses, one for
each day that I've known and loved Emily, cut up into mulch
Al, how come you never send me roses?
Oh Moses, smell the roses
No, I told you roses! Come on doofus!
Lisa Robin Kelly
Roses are red, angels are gossamer, hold on to yourself and make sure
you floss some more
Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my
back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my
car. Get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down
the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking
up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck
the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going
down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks
on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of
overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic.
Ah. Fortune smiles. Another day of wine and roses. Or, in your case,
beer and pizza!
Tommy Lee Jones
I want to send 18 yellow roses every day to Mary.
You wanna send roses to the mother?
We want bread. But we want roses too.
I knew you were only joking about the roses. And the sweeties. But it
was nice while it lasted.
He's an idiot. Look at this. Three gladiolus, five carnations, and a
bunch of white roses?
Don't you remember the time I... I... I had myself delivered to you in
a box for your birthday? And? and the guy I paid to deliver the box
screwed up and delivered me to the wrong apartment? And... and how
the... the lady who opened the box... uh... freaked out and started
screaming? And I ran out of there just as you poked your head into the
hall. And... and the next thing I know, this one's bashing me for
having an affair with her neighbor, and this one's bashing me for
being some kind of gift-wrapped pervert? And... and all I had to
protect myself was... was a dozen roses. And.. and.. and you never
even read the note.
I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I
was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and
roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that
long lost perfume.
It's gonna be raining wine and roses tonight.
Roses are red, Violets are Blue, They'll need dental records to identify you.
Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm a schizophrenic... and so am I!
Mo-om! He's painting our roses again!
Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you.
search strategy -- various Google searches with the terms: