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
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
H/t: LaBantamRooster Irish Celtic Music – Christy Moore – The Magdalene Laundry. Words slightly adapted by singer. Great interpretation, Christy on JM’s classic. Guitar playing also is excellent!