Jean, Jean, roses are red;
All the leaves have gone green.
And the clouds are so low,
You can touch them, and so...
Come out to the meadow, Jean.

Jean, Jean, you're young and alive;
Come out of your half-dreamed dream.
And run, if you will,
To the top of the hill;
Open your arms, bonnie Jean.

'Til the sheep in the valley come home my way,
'Til the stars fall around me, and find me, alone;
When the sun comes a-singin',
I'll still be waitin'...

Jean, Jean, the roses are red;
All of the leaves have gone green.
And the hills are ablaze
With the moon's yellow haze.
Come into my arms, bonnie Jean.