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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Wilson Fairchild
Wilson Fairchild
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Harold Wilson Reid
Harold Wilson Reid
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Michael Sykes
Michael Sykes
Producer
Johnny Minick
Johnny Minick
Producer

Lyrics

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'd never had a home And an 18-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 35 Who was spoken to in town by very few She managed the late evening business Like most of the town wished they could do And I've 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 the 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 Ooh
Writer(s): Harold Wilson Reid Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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