Roses are red, violets are blue, so are my balls thanks to you.
Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm schizophrenic, and so am I.
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
I'm sick of this poem,
you probably are too.
Roses are red Violets are blue Everything's possible Nothing is true.
She bathed with roses red,
And violets blew.
And all the sweetest flowres
That in the forrest grew.
How cunningly nature hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses and violets and morning dew!
Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart; I breathe at this hour the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets, and the roses, as at twenty years ago.
Being half Jewish, we grew up with Christmas trees but had Jewish ornaments.
I'm Jewish and my wife isn't so right now we're literally decorating a Christmas tree with Jewish stars draped around it.
Roses are red, violets are blue, they got ten, we only got two.
Violet has the shortest wavelength of the spectrum. Behind it, the invisible ultraviolet. Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. Poor violet, violated for a rhyme.
The real reason Jews don't have more Hanukkah music is that, historically, American Jewish singer-songwriters were too busy making Christmas music. 'White Christmas,' 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,' 'Silver Bells' and 'The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting)' were all written by Jews.
I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs, where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburmum on his birthday,-
The tree is living yet.
Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, lilies and laurels over them we lay, and violets o'er each unforgotten head.
We celebrated Christmas. Not religiously, but we did the tree and the lights. Hannukah always seemed not quite as thrilling - Sorry to my Jewish brothers and sisters! But when you're a kid, Santa and all that, you know, that really trumps the menorah. So we did Christmas.
I was left alone there in the company of the orchids, roses and violets, which, like people waiting beside you who do not know you, preserved a silence which their individuality as living things made all the more striking, and warmed themselves in the heat of a glowing coal fire.