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