She was called a scarlet woman by the people Who would go to church but left me in the street With no parents of my own, I never had a home And an eighteen year old boy has got to eat.
She found me outside one Sunday morning Begging money from a man I didn't know She took me in and wiped away my childhood A woman of the streets this lady Rose.
This bed of Rose's that I lay on Where I was taught to be a man This bed of Rose's where I'm livin' Is the only kind of life I understand.
She was a handsome woman, just thirty-five Who was spoken to in town by very few She managed a late evening business Like most of the town wished they could do.
And I learned all the things that a man should know From a woman not approved of I suppose But she died knowing that I really loved her Off life's bramble bush, I picked a rose.
This bed of Rose's that I lay on Where I was taught to be a man This bed of Rose's where I'm livin' Is the only kind of life I understand.
This bed of Rose's that I lay on Where I was taught to be a man This bed of Rose's where I'm livin' Is the only kind of life I understand.