Daughter of Erin

I was not but a daughter of Erin

An Irish girl, lowborn and unschooled

Looked down upon by all those who ruled

Boston, a city with morals barren

I started out in the cold factories

And it was there along the docks I saw

Marching off the streets as the black crow cawed

Counting their coins, enjoying their victories

Fabulous ladies of the evening hymns

Dressed in scarlet, black and in blue

Those who with a single sensual cue

Could make family men forget all about them

I saved up some money, bought myself a dress

Deepest green, low cut to catch a man's eye

Lips painted sultry red, daring them to try

A lady of the night, dressed to impress

I'll make them suckle, buckle and mewl

All while I look down upon those who rule