Flowers for Jesus

In the soft winds they wave
I spotted them near his grave 
At some hole round Mexico
Thought about his widow’s face

Thought about the way she cries
The subtle lashes of her eyes
Through cracked lips she gently sighs
Bout the cold and lonely nights

Jesus was her man
With his help people ran
Way from home in Mexico
For them Jesus took his stand

I said some words for him
Wrote them on the prairie wind
Wondered who laid him low
I suppose we never shall know

Thought about the way she cries
The subtle lashes of her eyes
Through cracked lips she gently sighs
Bout the cold and lonely nights

Taking her home again
V-8 Ford through pouring rain
To raise her child unborn
We should arrive by early morn

Thoughts about the way she cries
The subtle lashes of her eyes
Through cracked lips she gently sighs
Bout the cold and lonely nights