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