Wednesday, 9 March 2016

Oh, sister 2 . (Memoirs of Nancy Trollop i)

My name is Nancy Trollop
Go on and scoff
Someone tried that once and got a right good wallop
It just weren’t right
A name like that for a lady of the night
Just my luck
I don’t know why I ever gave a…
Oops, I almost said a naughty word
But you ’ave to admit the name is absurd
Know what I mean?
None of the customers knew my name
But that’s men
All the bleedin’ same
Give you ’alf a crown
“Come on, love,” they’d say. “Get your knickers down.”
All they saw was a ride
It might ’ave been me job but I did ’ave me pride
Sixteen I was when I started on the street
I ’ad to do somethin’ if I wanted to eat
Me dad was the one that kicked me out
The drunken sod was always knockin’ me mum about
We ended up ’avin’ a row
When for once I tried to defend the silly cow
I saw it as an opportunity for us both to flee
But instead the pathetic cow chose ’im instead of me
I left with me ’ead ’eld ’igh
To deny them the satisfaction of seein’ me cry
But tears were abundant in the next few years
That that was mostly due to the loneliness and fears
Then one night I decided to go down to the dock
To see if I could find an eager…
There I go again
From vulgarity I must learn to refrain
Yeah, so there I was down at the dock
In a mucky little dive is where I met the Jock
Robert Brown
Or the Scottish variation bein’ Robert Broon
No matter
Them looks and charm would make any girl swoon
I sensed the atmosphere weren’t right that night
And a couple of lads in the corner were spoilin’ for a fight
I didn’t want to see ’im get ’urt
And nor did I fancy seein’ blood bein’ spurt
So when ’e told me that ’e needed a place to sleep
I said that ’e could stay at mine if ’e paid for ’is keep
I soon realised that I ‘ad a much needed friend
If a customer got out of ’and
The valiant Jock would be there to defend
We always ’ad money and it never ran low
Where ’e got ’is from I wouldn’t bloody know
But ask no questions and you’ll get no lies
Accept things as they are and never surmise
That was ’ow things went for a while
Until one day ’e got ’ome with a very broad smile
“Nancy, what ye need is a better class gent,” ‘e said to me. “It’ll mean we have tae move and pay a higher rent.”
That was the start
I was about to become a different kind of tart
My mentor was an Irish girl by the name of Siobhan
As soon as we met we really got on
“I’ll show ye a thing or two,” she told me. “My customers pay me to tell them what to do.”

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