Bed Of Roses

Transcribed: J. Jezard Subject: Bed of Roses You'll have to figure out how it starts. I still can't figure it out. she was called the scarlet woman by the people who would go to Church, but left me in the street with no kinfolk of my own, I never had a home and a eighteen year old boy has got to eat She found me outside one Sunday morning Begging money from someone I didn't know She took me in a wipe away my childhood A woman of the streets, that lady rose This bed of rose's that I lay on, where I was taught to be a man This bed of rose's that I live in, is the only kind of life I understand she was a handsome woman just fourty-five, who was spoken to in town by very few She managed a late evening business, like most of the town wish they could do. Well 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, from life bramble bush I picked a rose