In the summer of 1980, while on break from the University of Washington, I played my first “professional” job at the Queen’s Hotel Pub in Fort Macleod, Alberta. Hot days, warm evenings and cherished memories. They refer to this as “Wild Rose Country” today. Quite fitting...

I come ridin’ through the prairie grass, the wind has waved the way
To see that lovely maiden girl whose beauty is on display
And I hope that she remembers me and leaves her door ajar
To snuggle as September leaves fall naked as they are

You’re the Rose, you’re The Rose of Fort Macleod
Autumn knows, Autumn shows her colors proud
A dozen men all wanting you are waiting in the crowd
With offerings and promises to The Rose of Fort Macleod

T’wasn’t it a moon ago when I first caught your eye
Playing in an old saloon beneath the summer sky
But the driving rains and winds of change played seasons with the mind
And I could’ve had you to myself but I could not say, "mine"

You’re the Rose, you’re The Rose of Fort Macleod
Autumn knows, Autumn throws her colors proud
A dozen men all wanting you are waiting in the crowd
With offerings and promises to The Rose of Fort Macleod

You’re the Rose, you’re The Rose of Fort Macleod
Autumn knows, Autumn shows her colors proud
A dozen men all wanting you are waiting in the crowd
To offer rings and promises to The Rose of Fort Macleod

They’ll offer rings and promises to The Rose...
Of Fort Macleod