She was called a scarlet woman by the people

Who would go to church but left me in the streets

With no parents of my own

Well I never had a home

But 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 roses that I lay on

Where I was taught to be a man

This bed of roses where I'm living

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 roses that I lay on

Where I was taught to be a man

This bed of roses where I'm living

Is the only kind of life I understand

This bed of roses that I lay on

Where I was taught to be a man

This bed of roses where I'm living

Is the only kind of life I understand