The Harlot House

They usually come a dime a dozen.

You know the kind I mean.

Painted lips and painted faces to hide there age. Bigger the bossum, bigger the dollar, eh?

But not this girl.

Out of all the dimes she was a dollar.

She sat in a corner in her silver dress and silver shoes.

Her long blonde hair forced to be put up in curls.

Her face glowed in the dim lighting.

I don't know why I walked into such a place.

A place caught between heaven and hell; limbo.

She was shocked when I grabbed her hand first instead of her breast.

I didn't want her as the men around me groped for various things and a wild band of greasy gypies smoked there opium in a den.

Her skin was coverd in grease and she began to dance with me.

A horrid actress she was indeed.

If I paid a few dollars she would talk to me sweet, if I laid down a few more you know what I would get.

Sad and lonely she was.

Painted lady if I could save you from the house of these hells I would.

If I could save you from the streets, I would.

But you and I both know you won't stray away from this harlot house in the city on a bay.

Out of all the dimes, damn.

She was a dollar.