Advantage of the blog over the mainstream media: We’re not bound by common decency.
Tom Oleson, columnist for the Winnipeg Free Press, brings to our attention the fact that there is not one, but two songs about whoring in Winnipeg:
A colleague emailed me this week an enquiry about a song called Three Old Whores from Winnipeg. The song was not familiar to me, and at first I thought she was confusing it with another old ballad, The Winnipeg Whore, which I once heard performed by two elderly, drunken English remittance men at the bar of the Press Club, but she was right. They are distinct songs, although in spirit, as their titles suggest, not all that distinct.
Of course, he demurely suggests that, much as he’d like to, he can’t very well quote any lines from the songs. And, eschewing any advantage of the Internet, he doesn’t even link to a NSFW link that’s offsite, or hide it behind an Editor’s Note.
No need for any of that here. A simple Google search brings up several versions of each song. Like many drinking tunes, of course, these are sung to simple melodies and the lyrics are mutable (whether the Winnipeg whore is “a maid of the Chippeways” or “sweet Rosie O’Grady” is partly a matter of personal taste).
I’ve synthesized the various versions into ones that I think are, well, bawdiest.
The Winnipeg Whore
(versions here, here and here)
My first trip up the Saginaw River,
My first time to the Canadian shore,
There I met Rosie O’Grady,
Commonly known as th’ Winnipeg Whore.
Said, “My faith! You look familiar.”
Flopped her ass upon my knee,
Said she’d meet me in the northeast corner
Dollar and a half would be her fee.
Some were fiddling, some were fie-deling
Some were fucking on the bar-room floor,
But I was up in the northeast corner
Putting it to the Winnipeg whore.
Fucked her once, fucked her twice,
Then I fucked her one time more;
She gave a shout and then she fainted
That was the end of the Winnipeg whore.
Then, in there walked some sons ‘a’ bitches,
Must have been a score or more,
Oughta seen me shit my britches,
Slidin’ my ass out the whorehouse door.
—–
Three Old Whores from Winnepeg
(versions here and here)
Three old whores in Winnipeg
Were drinking a sherry wine,
Says one of them to the other two,
“Yours is smaller than mine.”
Chorus:
Oh, take up the sheets, me hearties, water the decks with brine!
Bend to the oars, you lousy whores, none is bigger than mine!
“You’re a liar,” says the other old whore
“Mine’s as big as the sea,
The battleships sail in and out,
And never a bother to me”
Chorus
“You’re a liar,” says the other old whore,
“Mine’s as big as the moon,
The ships sail in on the first of the year,
And never come out until June.”
Chorus
“You’re a liar,” says the other old whore,
“Mine’s as big as the air,
the ships sail out and the ships sail in,
And never tickle a hair”
Chorus
“You’re a liar,” says the first again,
I’d blush to be so small,
Many’s the fleet they sailed right in,
And never come out at all.”
Chorus:
Oh, take up the sheets, me hearties, water the decks with brine!
Bend to the oars, you lousy whores, none is bigger than mine!
Now… who’s up for some drinking and some singing? And whoring, of course.
