Текст песни The Magdalene Laundries - The Chieftains , 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 
                                                the 
                                                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
 
                                    
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