Picking up on all kinds of strangers
If the price is right
You can’t score if you’re pocket’s tight
But you want a good time. – Donna Summer, “Bad Girls”
For the third year in a row on this date, I present a column featuring the lyrics (and this time, videos) of songs about whores. Whenever I do one of these I like to present as wide a variety of types as possible, and this time is no exception: Here are songs about a thieving Liverpool streetwalker, a “hooker with a heart of gold” and an irresistible black call girl, but we’ll start out with one suggested by reader B.B. Wye, whose work has appeared in a previous song column.
The Magdalene Laundries (Joni Mitchell)
I was an unmarried girl
I’d just turned twenty-seven
When they sent me to the sisters
For the way men looked at me
Branded as a jezebel
I knew I was not bound for Heaven
I’d be cast in shame
Into the Magdalene laundries
Most girls come here pregnant
Some by their own fathers
Bridget got that belly
By her parish priest
We’re trying to get things white as snow
All of us woe-begotten-daughters
In the steaming stains
Of the Magdalene laundries
Prostitutes and destitutes
And temptresses like me–
Fallen women–
Sentenced into dreamless drudgery…
Why do they call this heartless place
Our Lady of Charity?
Oh charity!
These bloodless brides of Jesus
If they had just once glimpsed their groom
Then they’d know, and they’d drop those stones
Concealed behind their rosaries
They wilt the grass they walk upon
They leech the light out of a room
They’d like to drive us down the drain
At the Magdalene laundries
Peg O’Connell died today
She was a cheeky girl, a flirt
They just stuffed her in a hole!
Surely to God you’d think at least some bells should ring!
One day I’m going to die here, too
And they’ll plant me in the dirt
Like some lame bulb
That never blooms come any spring
Not any spring
No, not any spring
Not any spring
As I discussed in “Dirty Laundry”, the Magdalene Laundries started out as asylums for “repentant” prostitutes, but quickly devolved into nothing more than prisons and, as depicted in this song, were eventually used to incarcerate any girl who somehow embarrassed her family or the “authorities”.
Our next selection was written in 1925, and has changed in two major ways since then. First the two verses, containing lyrics specifically describing Georgia as “colored”, largely vanished within ten years and left only the far catchier double chorus. Next, the rest of the lyrics (which were never exactly graphic or obvious to start with) were modified depending upon the singer’s level of prudishness. The video below is the Ella Fitzgerald version, which cuts out the verses but leaves the choral lyrics intact and adds a few lines near the end to demonstrate just how successful Georgia is in her trade.
Sweet Georgia Brown (Ben Bernie, Maceo Pinkard and Kenneth Casey)
She just got here yesterday,
Things are hot here now they say,
There’s a big change in town.
Gals are jealous, there’s no doubt,
Still the fellers rave about,
Sweet, sweet Georgia Brown;
And ever since she came
The colored folks all claim, say:
No gal made has got a shade on sweet Georgia Brown;
Two left feet but oh so neat has sweet Georgia Brown;
They all sigh and wanna die for sweet Georgia Brown;
I’ll tell you just why,
You know I don’t lie,
Not much!
It’s been said she knocks ‘em dead when she lands in town;
Since she came, why it’s a shame how she cools ‘em down;
Fellers she can’t get are fellers she ain’t met;
Georgia named her, Georgia claimed her,
Sweet Georgia Brown!
Brownskin gals you’ll get the blues,
Brownskin pals you’ll surely lose,
And there’s but one excuse.
Now I’ve told you who she was,
And I’ve told you what she does,
Hand this gal her dues,
This colored maiden’s prayer
Is answered anywhere, say:
No gal made has got a shade on sweet Georgia Brown;
Two left feet but oh so neat has sweet Georgia Brown;
They all sigh and wanna die for sweet Georgia Brown;
I’ll tell you just why,
You know I don’t lie,
Not much!
All those tips the porter slips to sweet Georgia Brown;
They buy clothes at fashion shows with one dollar down;
Oh boy, tip your hats; oh joy, she’s the “cat’s”,
Who’s that Mister? ‘T’ain’t her sister,
Sweet Georgia Brown!
Our next song was one of the most popular of 1931, and became Cab Calloway’s signature tune (performed regularly until his death in 1994). Prudes who believe that music has become “dirtier” would do well to consider this song, whose heroine falls in love with a cokehead who leads her into opium use, then runs off with her bail money after she’s arrested in a raid of the opium den. Though he generally played the whole song in live performances, most recorded versions stop at the end of Minnie’s opium dream. Calloway was one of the masters of scat singing, and though the chorus featured the famous “Hi-dee hi-dee hidey ho” line he often varied it or embroidered upon it. The video I’ve chosen is actually a Betty Boop cartoon, but the dancing walrus is actually a rotoscoped Calloway.
Minnie the Moocher (Cab Calloway)
Folks, here’s a story ’bout Minnie the Moocher;
She was a red hot hoochie-koocher.
She was the roughest, toughest frail,
But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale.
(Scat chorus)
She messed around with a bloke named Smoky;
She loved him though he was cokey.
He took her down to Chinatown
He showed her how to kick the gong around.
(Scat chorus)
She had a dream that the King of Sweden,
He gave her things that she was needin’,
He built her a house of gold and steel
A diamond car with platinum wheels!
(Scat chorus)
He gave her his townhouse and his racing horses,
Each meal she ate was a dozen courses.
She had a million dollars worth of nickels and dimes,
She sat around and counted them all a million times.
(Scat chorus)
Now Min and Smoky, they started jaggin’;
They got a free ride in a wagon.
She gave him money to pay her bail,
But he left her flat in the county jail.
(Scat chorus)
Poor Min met old Deacon Lowdown,
He preached to her that she ought to slow down,
But Minnie wiggled her jelly roll,
And Deacon Lowdown yelled, “Lord save my soul!”
(Scat chorus)
They took her where they put the crazies;
Now poor Min’s kicking up those daisies.
You’ve heard my story, this is her song;
She was just a good gal, but they done her wrong.
(Scat chorus)
Poor Min, Poor Min, Poor Min.
Our last selection today is an early 19th-century sea chanty about a streetwalker who robs a sailor; Lime Street is a traditional Liverpool waterfront stroll. The Beatles often performed the song in their early concerts, and a short performance of the first verse (and a little of the second) appears on Let It Be.
Maggie May (traditional)
Oh dirty Maggie May, they have taken her away
And she’ll never walk down Lime Street any more.
Well the judge he guilty found her,
For robbing a homeward-bounder,
That dirty no good robbin’ Maggie May.
Now I was paid off at the Pool, in the port of Liverpool.
Well three pound ten a week that was my pay.
With a pocket full of tin
I was very soon taken in,
By a gal with the name of Maggie May.
Now the first time I saw Maggie she took my breath away,
She was cruisin up and down in Canning Place.
She had a figure so divine,
Her voice was so refined,
Well being a sailor I gave chase.
Now in the morning I awoke, I was flat and stony broke.
No jacket, trousers, waistcoat did I find.
Oh and when I asked her “where?”
She said “My very dear sir
They’re down in Kelly’s pawnshop number nine”.
To the pawnshop I did go, no clothes there did I find,
And the p’lice they took that gal away from me.
And the judge he guilty found her,
Of robbin’ a homeward-bounder,
She’ll never walk down Lime Street anymore.
Oh dirty Maggie May, they have taken her away
And she’ll never walk down Lime Street anymore.
Well the judge he guilty found her,
For robbin’ a homeward-bounder,
That dirty no good robbin’ Maggie May.
Joni Mitchell’s version is OK, but a bit anodyne I think. I suggest Mary Coughlan’s version is superior. Her Irish voice makes the lyric even more heart-breaking.
Not sure if the Coughlan version of Magdalene Laundries is the same song while having simialar musical intro the lyrics are quite different. But while checking that ran across Coughlan’s version of ‘Whore of Babylon’ and found it to be very impressive. Perhaps a start for your next listing of whore songs Maggie?
Hi Maggie,
talking about women singers.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2222757/Nicole-Scherzinger-Tulisa-steps-scantily-clad-costumes-Rylan-Clark-birthday.html
“As a former member of the Pussycat Dolls, Nicole Scherzinger was never afraid to put her best assets on display”.
So..according to this female writer a womans best assets are her tits and arse. And, of course, if a MAN said that he would be a woman hater, right?
So why is it ok for women to say the exact same thing that would land a man in so much hot water, eh? Sexism, much, eh?
Yo Pete – the woman actually said Nicole Scherzinger was putting HER best assets on display – NOT “womens” best assets.
In short – it was an insult aimed at Scherzinger, meant to convey the fact that all she is – is a shallow sex toy and not much more.
And yes, a man could get away with saying that – depending upon whom he intended to insult at the time. Lots of people have said these things about Sarah Palin for instance and, they are still standing.
Wow. I hadn’t thought of Lime Street in a while, then, for no particular reason, I thought of it yesterday, and now you mention it!
There’s another, similar in some ways to Maggie May, although it’s not explicit that the woman is on the game, a song called “Black Velvet Band”, in which the man meets, and picks up the woman at the pub, but she’s a pick pocket, and has just robbed a man, and planted the goods on the man. He’s arrested, the stolen watch found on him, and he’s sentenced to transportation.
Thanks again, Maggie.
You’re welcome. What I’m hoping is that someone with a knowledge of sea chanties can tell me what the sailor’s original salary was; “three pounds ten” is clearly a mid-20th century replacement for whatever three-syllable sum was there in the early 19th century (“fifteen bob” perhaps?) because even by Queen Victoria’s death anything over £100 a year was a gentleman’s income.
I think the original was “four pound ten a month”
That’s the way Hughie Jones and the Spinners sang it …
No, not the American R&B group … this was a UK folk band …
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spinners_(UK_band)
Funny thing is … the actress who plays “Maggie” in this video looks exactly like the way I picture Maggie McNeill to look in my head. Except for the boobs that is, I guess this girl is too small to compete. 😀
(Just a guess though).
Also I think the yearly salary for “four pound ten a month” would be 54 pounds – does that sound reasonable for the age? That’s if the “ten” means ten “shillings” – and back then they had 20 shillings to the pound – so 4.5 pounds a month would have been his pay?
I suck at math. 🙁
Four pounds ten a month would still be pretty high for a common sailor at any point in the 19th century.
As for how I look, well, there’s another pic tomorrow, though of course (as usual) the face is not clear. 😉
I think you’re right, according to this an Able Seaman got 20 pounds a year in 1806, and I don’t think the 19th century saw the same kind of inflationary wage increases we’ve seen in the last half of the 20th century.
http://www.napoleonguide.com/navy_rnpay.htm
By the way – 20 pounds a year is a far cry from what we see in the USN today. I was making a six figure income as a Master Chief and was doubling up on submarine pay, hazardous duty pay, and my sea pay was off the charts. Icing to that was MOST of my pay was tax-exempt … housing allowance, food allowance, and any time I was in the combat zone EVERY DIME I made was tax exempt. In fact, if I only spent one day in the combat zone in a given month – the entire month was tax free to me.
I used to reenlist Sailors in the combat zone who received enlistment bonuses up to $80,000 – and they received that … TAX FREE.
When I retired, I asked a former Master Chief to give me some advice on civilian life. He told me … “Get ready to pay out the ass in taxes … because it wiped my savings out the first year when I wasn’t prepared for it!”
Well, it gets complicated because British money was decimalized in the early seventies, so things don’t actually convert.
But Three pounds then? maybe for the whole years work. More like several shillings a week.
It also gets complicated when talking of sailors. Royal Navy sailors got wages, as did some merchant ship sailors. Fishermen often got shares of the catch.
Maggie May doesn’t sound like a real whore to me, but a phony one who takes the money and runs out the back door. Given the semi-legal status of the industry in the UK, I don’t know if anything can be done about scammers like her or not.
A bit of research can go a long way. It is usually the case that true sex professionals have someone that can vouch for them, whereas opportunistic criminals do not.
Here’s the moralists’ response–
GLAD RAG DOLL (1928)
Little painted lady,
With your lovely clothes,
Where are you bound for, may I ask?
What your diamonds cost you,
Ev’rybody knows,
All the world can see behind your mask.
All dolled up in glad rags,
Tomorrow may turn to sad rags,
They call you Glad Rag Doll!
Admired,
Desired,
By lovers who soon grow tired,
Poor little Glad Rag Doll!
You’re just a pretty toy
They like to play with,
You’re not the kind they choose
To grow old and gray with!
Don’t make this the end, dear,
It’s never too late to ‘mend, dear,
Poor little Glad Rag Doll!
Oh, you’re all dolled up in your glad rags,
And tomorrow, they may turn to sad rags,
They call you poor little Glad Rag Doll!
You’re admired,
And you’re desired,
By lots of lovers, but they soon grow tired,
Poor little Glad Rag Doll!
You’re just a pretty toy
They like to play with,
But you’re not the kind they choose
To, to grow old and gray with!
Don’t make this the end, dear,
It’s never, never too late to ‘mend, dear,
Poor little Glad Rag Doll!
— Ruth Etting version (1928 or 1929), available at archive.org
^^^^ There’s one part of the lyrics that I’d really like to get Maggie’s response to.
‘mend = amend
and, as recently revived by slutty jazzer Diana K…
Prohibitionists and moralists love to project their own discomfort with our decisions onto us; I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the equivalent of “All the world can see behind your mask.” They imagine themselves masters of psychology who can see into our minds, but somehow all they ever “see” is their own feelings.
Your comment on this lyric? vvvvvvvv
You’re just a pretty toy
They like to play with,
You’re not the kind they choose
To grow old and gray with!
I can just imagine a Bible-thumper singing that to you and you replying, “Wanna bet?”
What’s especially appalling about that attitude is its incredible and arse-backward misogyny, as if the only thing a woman could possibly have to offer a man was sexual inexperience.
A theme somewhat touched on in the first verse and the chorus of the song ‘Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked’ by Cage the Elephant…
I was walking down the street
When out the corner of my eye,
I saw a pretty little thing approaching me.
She said I never seen a man,
Who looks so all alone,
Oh, could you use a little company?
If you could pay the right price,
Your evening will be nice,
And you can go and send me on my way,
I said you’re such a sweet young thing,
Why’d you do this to yourself?
She looked at me and this is what she said.
Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked,
Money don’t grow on trees,
I got bills to pay,
I got mouths to feed,
There ain’t nothing in this world for free.
I know I can’t slow down,
I can’t hold back
Though you know I wish I could,
Oh no there ain’t no rest for the wicked,
Until we close our eyes for good.
Catchy tune, though.
Maggie –
Totally OT, but I thought this might interest you:
http://www.asiasentinel.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4921&Itemid=392
Has any Leonard Cohen come up in your song listings?
No, not yet. If you can think of a particular one please point me toward it for a future column! 🙂
It seems like a common theme in his poetry/music, although his lyrics can always be otherwise interpreted. Some examples:
“Winter Lady,” “Don’t Go Home With Your Hard-On,” perhaps most famously “Sisters of Mercy” used in the soundtrack for McCabe & Mrs. Miller.
It could even be read into “Suzanne” without much stretch.
I thought that the use of Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls” in the football film “The Replacements” was the funniest part of the movie.
Mary Coughlan’s Magdalene Laundry :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=GHWsLYtxzz0
Coughlan’s Whore of Babylon (this vid was made by one of my youtube friends):
In fact, the whole album ” The House of ill Repute” from Mary Coughlan is on topic
In reference to one of the comments, …
I have it on excellent authority that at least someformer whores make excellent wives. If one guy is enough to go on, even current whores aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be.
How o dd we’re so obsessed to the point of distraction with what others get up to when it comes to sex.
Dear Offgridman
Yes, you are quite correct. In my haste to respond I didn’t even check if it was the same song. I still believe Mary Coughlan to be an enormously under-rated singer, though. Not quite as under-rated as the great Warren Zevon whose song “Carmelita” may be relevant here.
Dear Feminist Whore
Thank you for going to all the trouble of finding Mary on YouTube. Really enjoyed it.
If you like Warren Zevon, you need to look at the column for tomorrow (Friday). 😉
Dear Maggie
I should have known that a woman of such good taste would also be a fan of the Great Man.
I need to write one. Ah, but I’m not much of a songwriter. It seems like it should be easy enough, but it never turns out that way. I’ve Written some parodies I’m about half-proud of, but original songs are tough.
Ma’am,
How about Sweet Painted Lady by Elton John and House of the Rising Sun by The Animals. Keep them incisive blogs coming. Thanks a lot!
Willie Nelson has some comments to add to the discussion. One of the best lines in “Electric Horseman” (1979 with Robert Redford and Jane Fonda) has Willie’s character in search of a “Keno girl who can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.” One presumes this is a colorful euphemism for oral sex. He also sings about prostitutes, mentioning them in the lyrics of “My Heroes have always been cowboys”
. . . Cowboys are special with their own brand of misery,
From being alone too long.
You could die from the cold in the arms of a nightman,
Knowin’ well that your best days are gone.
Pickin’ up hookers instead of my pen,
I let the words of my youth fade away.
Old worn-out saddles, and ‘old worn-out memories,
With no one and no place to stay. . .
Here’s an oldie and a goodie:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aO3HSwuH3vI
A Man for Every Day in the Week – Sippie Wallace