Tuesday, 29 March 2016

Oh, sister 10. (Memoirs of Nerys Jones ii)

I’ve never been one to back down
Somethin’ just intrigued me about Robert Brown
He certainly was a handsome man
But I knew in his head there was a cunnin’ plan
And that wicked grin
A tell-tale sign that the Devil was within
So when I asked him what was in it for me
“Sixty percent for us,” he told me. “Forty for the other three.”
I might not have had much education
But that sounded to me like a fair allocation
“Jist leave everythin’ tae me,” he said. “We’ll aw get rich, ye’ll see.”
And he was right
We had scores of punters every night
And we worked from dusk ‘til mornin’ light
Well, you couldn’t really call it work
Gratifyin’ some toffee nose’s quirk
Robert instructed us to be polite to our guests
And each one took charge of certain requests
Unless the customer chose to select another
But usually Siobhan got to act as a mother
It was always me when it came to a smother
And Sally
Bein’ petite
Always had demands for her neat little feet
Even Nancy had her use
She had a knack for verbal abuse
Screamin’ and shoutin’ in her Cockney twang
Confusin’ them too with her rhymin’ slang
It was hardly a surprise that due to my size
That no other was ever chosen to smother
I’d sit on these men until they were gaspin’ for breath
Squashin’ some of them half to death
Occasionally I’d have Nancy with me too
That was always a right hullaballoo
As soon as she’d hear one grunt
She’d scream, “Shut your mouth, you slimy little …”
You know the word that I mean
One that’s obscene
Yes, she was always that blunt
Addin’ to the distress of the poor little runt
I got to enjoy inflictin’ pain
A feelin’ of power when I was usin’ my cane
A few even asked me to be a schoolmaster
Crikey, at first I thought that it would be a disaster
I didn’t know much about writin’ and sums
But all they wanted was whacks on their bums
It was quite enthrallin’ bein’ dressed as a man
Givin’ their behinds a jolly good tan
They were tremendously happy to be abused
And if Victoria had known she’d have been far from amused 

Friday, 25 March 2016

Oh, sister 9. (Memoirs of Sally McGhee ii)

After meetin’ Nerys my life certainly changed
I never imagined the nobility could be so deranged
While the rest o’ us contended with worry and strife
Fixations to them were more important in life
Ye have to wonder how they originated
Those needs that were so dissipated
Somethin’ must have triggered their bizarre concepts
Obsessions that only a whore accepts
With a whore they knew that their secret would be kept
One that didn’t care if they were sexually inept
If that were the case it wouldn’t have been a surprise
What does a man do when his manhood doesn’t rise?
He’d try somethin’ else to fulfil his desire
Somethin’ peculiar to stoke that fire
But ye never know with a toff
Perhaps the absurdity was what got them off
Like the one that liked to suck on my toe
Who they were we weren’t allowed to know
But me and the others named him Joe
They shared their secrets but never gave their names
We were just roles in their silly wee games
Joe was a midget but really quite sweet
With a compulsive desire to lick my feet
And suck my toes one by one
But to enhance his fun
It was requested that I be dressed as a nun
It never really mattered to me
I wasn’t of that particular faith, ye see
But poor Siobhan
Her face when she first saw me with the habit on
“Good grief!” she cried. “Have you gone celibate and changed you belief?”
“No, ye silly cow,” I replied. “It’s still the same Sally McGhee underneath.”
But each and every day
We were prepared for whatever came our way
Apart from the police
Mostly they left us in peace
But once when Robert forgot to pay
They quickly came around to take us away
We had to spend that weekend in a cell
And I can assure ye that it was a livin’ hell
Never again did he make that mistake
We had business to take care of and there was too much at stake
Our services we had to adjourn
But one week later saw the customers return
And things were even better than they were before
Many new faces arrived at the door
New obsessions and quirks galore
Money poured
But that was the thing we really adored 

Monday, 21 March 2016

Oh, sister 8. (Memoirs of Siobhan MacGeary ii)

The look on Nancy’s face
But ye have to agree that it was a disgrace
A grown man actin’ like a child
And the purity o’ infancy bein’ so defiled
It makes ye wonder who was to blame
If he was deprived o’ a mother’s love then that was a shame
I had that same look like Nancy when Sally brought me on board
One of her punters had me floored
When he began to behave like a chicken
If that wasn’t enough to sicken
He flapped his elbows and started cluckin’
Then pecked at the seeds that Sally was chuckin’
He certainly wasn’t any cause for alarm
But ye have to question an obsession that stems from a farm
Sally wasn’t fazed by one so crazed
“Let him pretend to lay his eggs,” she said to me. “It’s certainly a lot better than havin’ to open yer legs.”
In a sense I had to agree with Sally McGhee
Let them be what they want to be
As long as they posed no danger to the others and me
Like silent Sarah Lee
That was his name when he became she
All we did was sit and drink tea
Never talk
Him in a frock with a very stiff…
Well, seein’ that for the first time was a bit of a shock
And I had one eye on him and one on the clock
Not really wishin’ the time away
It just would have been better if he had somethin’ to say
If he’d expressed his desire
Tell me the reason for the female attire
But all he did was sit and sup
And pay what he owed when his time was up
Sometimes the job could be a bit o’ a bore
But much rather that than bein’ a two shillin’ whore
At least we had assortment comin’ to our door
And they’d always come back
The most frequent customer was one we called Jack
The man in the box
He’d bring it with him along with the locks
And ask to be locked inside
Until his want was satisfied
And then he’d shout, “I’m finished now, you can let me out!”
What happened in the box he never confessed
But I’m sure that ye’ve probably guessed
Any disclosure was the right o’ the guest
They knew best
We were just there to adhere to their request
Some would divulge with complete exultation
While others left things to the imagination
But no matter the customer and no matter the quirk
Panderin’ to their weaknesses wasn’t somethin’ to shirk

Saturday, 19 March 2016

Oh, sister 7. (Memoirs of Nancy Trollop ii)

I loved the way that Robert took control
Completely ’eadstrong when ’e ’ad a goal
And finally I got to move out of that stinkin’ ’ole
I was still an ‘ore but in a different role
I wanted to scream with elation
When I first arrived at the new accommodation
Each one of us girls ’ad their designated room
And I was glad that Siobhan offered to groom
Sally weren’t exactly pally
And I was wary of Nerys
She look liked she could be a nasty piece
So Siobhan proceeded to teach me the tricks
To show me ’ow the gentry got their kicks
At first I thought she were pullin’ me leg
When she told me that the punters would grovel and beg
And for that they would pay
An ‘elluva lot different from where I used to stay
Back there people begged every day
Simply because there weren’t no other way
It didn’t take long for ‘er to show me the ropes
A crack of the whip if a customer gropes
Obedience I ’ad to demand
Let them know that I was in command
And if they didn’t oblige or they didn’t understand
A kick to the rear or a good back’and
Seein’ is believin’ and I ’ad to see ’er in action
I couldn’t understand ’ow anyone could get satisfaction
Or even titillation from ’umilation
To observe
She told me
Would require consent
But said she would ask ’er next scheduled gent
The man agreed to let me watch
Salivated and rubbed ’is crotch
When I looked at ’is ’and and I saw a weddin’ ring
I thought, ‘I bet ’is trouble and strife don’t know a bleedin’ thing.’ 
What could be so bad that he couldn’t ask ’er indoors?
I was curious to know why ’e needed us ‘ores
Moments later I understood why
When ’e fell to ’is knees and began to cry
And then began to ‘owl
Before ‘e ran to the corner and did somethin’ foul
This was wild
A grown man actin’ like an unruly child
I looked at Siobhan
For at least an indication of what was goin’ on
But she just sighed and shook ‘er ‘ead
Spanked ’is bum and put ‘im to bed
The screams subsided to a pitiful cry
And Siobhan consoled ‘im with a sweet lullaby

Thursday, 17 March 2016

Oh, sister 6. (Memoirs of Robert Brown ii)

If an opportunity presents itself
An’ that opportunity can lead tae wealth
Ye grab it nae matter what anybody says
Bein’ bound tae integrity never pays
Ah’m no here tae toil for the upper classes
An’ others that get rich oan the sweat o’ the masses
Naw, slowly is how a poor life passes
An’ rich ah wis gonnae be wi’ the help o’ the lassies
The plan began when ah moved in wi’ Nancy
When a customer arrived an’ she enquired aboot his fancy
Ah never heard what the punter said
So ah waited ‘til they were done an’ she got paid
An’ asked her aboot his request
Tae see if there’d be somethin’ o’ interest
The boldness o’ the question caused her tae smile
“What else?” she replied. “Everyone around ’ere wants missionary style.”
That’s what got me thinkin’ aboot the rich
Did some o’ them have another kind o’ itch?
Ah mean, ye hear aw the stories aboot their interbreedin’
Wid the products o’ that be specially needin’?
Could their desire for cruelty be also masochistic?
Ah needed tae know if this wis realistic
Ah had tae get oot an’ aboot
An’ ah had to acquire an expensive suit
That wis easy tae find
Some dandy ah battered fae behind
Wi’ a stick
It wis quick
Robbed him o’ his suit an’ took his cash
Hurriedly dressed an’ then made a dash
The next thing ah needed wis poise
Ah had tae be convincin’ tae get in wi’ these boys
An’ tae put oan ma poshest Scottish voice
Ah didnae have a choice
If ah spoke tae them in ma workin’ class brogue
They’d cotton oan straight away that ah wis a devious rogue
So ah sneaked intae this exclusive club
The people ah wis lookin’ for widnae be found in a pub
Some ponce had the cheek tae ask if ah wis a member
“I’m Lord Brown,” ah told him. “I was here last December. Don’t you remember?”
That seemed tae dae the trick
Jist as well as he wis already gettin’ oan ma wick
The mood soon brightened wi’ whisky
An’ the toffee nosed twits started tae get frisky
Less introverted
An’ ah discovered that their appetites were somewhat perverted
An’ although what they enjoyed wis merr or less the same
Each o’ them enjoyed a different game
Some had a thing aboot feet
But what really tickled me wis the human seat
This was how some o’ the rich behaved
Withoot a care o’ it bein’ sordid and depraved
This wis how money could be made
An’ when ah asked where ah could find women so willin’ tae degrade
Ah wis given the address o’ a lass called Nerys
She wis prosperin’ an’ ah wanted a piece
We made a deal in nae time at aw
Ah think it might have been the threat o’ the law
Ah promised her that ma intention wisnae purely greed
An’ that ah’d help her an’ the other two tae succeed
An’ wi’ Nancy comin’ along tae make up four
Punters wid soon be queuein’ at the door
As long as we aw contributed tae the rent
We’d continue tae attract the upper class gent 

Tuesday, 15 March 2016

Oh, sister 5. (Memoirs of Nerys Jones i)

My name is Nerys Jones
Call me the whale from Wales and I’ll bloody break your bones
That’s what they used to call me
Way back when I lived in Swansea
The taunts would never cease
Whale from Wales and obese Nerys
From that you’ve probably gathered that I was largely alone
A little pun to make you groan
At the age of fifteen I was already fourteen stone
And although I’d often moan
Life had to be lived and I just got on with it
From my mum is where I probably got my wit
My dad was a sour bugger that worked in a pit
Work for him meant goin’ away
And I’d only ever see him every other Friday
Home to bring us some much needed money
Home to mum for a little bit of honey
Out of the house I used to sneak
To get away from their grunts and that bed’s awful squeak
One night out of curiosity I decided to take a peek
You should know by now that I’m not exactly meek
But I couldn’t face my mum for the next bloody week
Look, I wasn’t that na├»ve I’ll have you believe
I knew what it took to conceive
But I thought it’d be a lot gentler and romantic
Not so tumultuous and so frantic
I have some inklin’ of what you’re probably thinkin’
When did it happen to Nerys?
At the age of sixteen with a boy called Rhys
I learned later on that he did it for a dare
But it was so much bloody fun and I didn’t bloody care
And such was my fascination
That I made up my mind to leave my tiny nation
London was where I decided to head
I was filled with excitement and a teeny bit of dread
There had to be someone in that great big city
I was a big girl but I was also pretty
Things didn’t go exactly to plan
And that was due to that crazy man called Stan
What a cad
And probably old enough to be my dad
“Need a place to sleep, love?” he said to me one night on the street. “I’ve got a place, nice and neat.”
I was very tired and I needed a bed
But I refused his offer and shook my head
“Come on, love,” he said as I walked away. “I can see that you’re in need of a place to stay.”
I shook my head again and continued on my way
“Don’t be so rash!” he shouted. “You and I can make a bit of cash!”
I turned and walked back to where he stood. “What do I have to do for a bed and some food?”
“Sit, that’s it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Are you askin’ me to do somethin’ obscene?”
“Some gents I know like to be sat upon,” he replied. “It’s alright, love. You get to keep your knickers on.”
And he was right
I was in demand night after night
Keepin’ these weirdos satisfied
Until one night Stan collapsed and died
I got rid of the corpse and didn’t dilly dally
And out in the street I met a girl called Sally
Later on she brought back Siobhan
I wanted to expand now that he was gone
It all went well until the arrival of Robert Brown
The man that threatened to bring me down
“Nerys,” he said. “Let me run things or ah’ll go tae the police.”
The way he said it sounded like ‘poaliss’
The man was soulless

Sunday, 13 March 2016

Oh, sister 4. (Memoirs of Sally McGhee i)

My name is Sally McGhee
Born to be footloose and fancy-free
A girl wi’ a chequered past
That all began in bleak Belfast
Back when we lived in poverty
My mum
My dad
My brother and me
But life wasn’t altogether misery
In our tight knit wee community
Ye could say that there was camaraderie
People with heart
With each and every one playin’ a part
At seventeen I made my start
In the world of sex
And learned very quickly what a man expects
How to please
I took to it with ease
And no matter if I was down on my knees
Or givin’ men a rub when they came out of the pub
I didn’t see it as bad
There was money to be had
In no time at all I’d acquired a tidy sum
But it was soon discovered by my inquisitive mum
All I could do was look at her with dread
When she found it under the mattress whilst makin’ my bed
There was no foolin’ my mum
She knew instinctively from where it had come
And for that I was instantly slapped in the face
And told that I was a filthy disgrace
I expected worse from my dad
But he just shook his head and looked very sad
I tried to say sorry but he refused to speak
Reluctantly I left home at the end of the week
For a while I wore a frown
Until the day I reached London town
I knew that survivin’ there meant havin’ to be gritty
As failure would receive nobody’s pity
A good assumption
But given time and a wee bit o’ gumption
I knew somehow I would make it there
And that life in Belfast wouldn’t compare
My intuition was right
My life would change that very first night
As I stood under a dim streetlight
A few of the other girls got a bit uptight
Shoutin’ to me that it was their territory
And permission to work there was mandatory
I was determined to stay
Who were they to push me away?
I changed my mind when they began to throw stones
And that’s when I bumped into Nerys Jones
What a sight
Eighteen stone and six feet in height
From Swansea
She could tell you some funny tales
She didn’t work on the street
Men paid her to be her seat

Thursday, 10 March 2016

Oh, sister 3 . (Memoirs of Siobhan MacGeary i)

My name is Siobhan MacGeary
And the life I’ve had has been far from dreary
I hail from Eire’s Donegal
And the power o’ femininity I learned from small
The power to sway and get my own way
Sugar and spice
But not so nice
A little sweetness was on offer
But for a very high price
They love to make noise
Tryin’ to act tough
But the sight o’ me in the buff was enough
To bring them to their knees
Beggin’ me please
Oh, how I loved to tease
Puberty was a blessin’ for me
I ripened very quickly, ye see
Into a pretty and curvaceous lass
Whistles from the boys when they saw me pass
Some sassy remarks of wicked intention
Each one tryin’ to get my attention
This went on for months on end
And it started to drive me around the bend
I suppose when I think o’ it
It was a shame
It wasn’t their fault
Hormones were to blame
A challenge was set
They had to give in order to get
Fight for the right to have a little piece of me
And also pay a generous fee
Sixteen shillin’s was what I required
For that the winner could have what he desired
The challenge was accepted
They were quick to decide
I knew they would
It was a matter of male pride
For weeks they were all well behaved
Each one wanted to win
And the money had to be saved
Eventually the day came and they battled it out
And Sean Malone won every bout
I stuck to the agreement but he didn’t get much
For sixteen shillin’s I allowed him to touch
But before he could kick up a storm
I warned him that I’d tell everyone that he couldn’t perform
That did the trick
He can only blame himself for thinkin’ with his…
You know what I mean
That appendage that makes all of them tick
Well, that was the first time I struck it rich
And that wee triumph was what made me a bitch
Little Siobhan
Learned to con
Decided to move to London to see what was goin’ on
That’s where I met Sally McGhee
In that wonderful den o’ iniquity
Northern Irish was she
She was the one that came up to me
“How would ye like to get off the street?” she asked. “If ye don’t yer morale will begin to deplete.”
“Aye,” I replied. “But a girl has to work if a girl wants to eat.”
“With me ye’ll do more than make ends meet,” she told me. “Men pay me just to kiss my feet.”

Wednesday, 9 March 2016

Oh, sister 2 . (Memoirs of Nancy Trollop i)

My name is Nancy Trollop
Go on and scoff
Someone tried that once and got a right good wallop
It just weren’t right
A name like that for a lady of the night
Just my luck
I don’t know why I ever gave a…
Oops, I almost said a naughty word
But you ’ave to admit the name is absurd
Know what I mean?
None of the customers knew my name
But that’s men
All the bleedin’ same
Give you ’alf a crown
“Come on, love,” they’d say. “Get your knickers down.”
All they saw was a ride
It might ’ave been me job but I did ’ave me pride
Sixteen I was when I started on the street
I ’ad to do somethin’ if I wanted to eat
Me dad was the one that kicked me out
The drunken sod was always knockin’ me mum about
We ended up ’avin’ a row
When for once I tried to defend the silly cow
I saw it as an opportunity for us both to flee
But instead the pathetic cow chose ’im instead of me
I left with me ’ead ’eld ’igh
To deny them the satisfaction of seein’ me cry
But tears were abundant in the next few years
That that was mostly due to the loneliness and fears
Then one night I decided to go down to the dock
To see if I could find an eager…
There I go again
From vulgarity I must learn to refrain
Yeah, so there I was down at the dock
In a mucky little dive is where I met the Jock
Robert Brown
Or the Scottish variation bein’ Robert Broon
No matter
Them looks and charm would make any girl swoon
I sensed the atmosphere weren’t right that night
And a couple of lads in the corner were spoilin’ for a fight
I didn’t want to see ’im get ’urt
And nor did I fancy seein’ blood bein’ spurt
So when ’e told me that ’e needed a place to sleep
I said that ’e could stay at mine if ’e paid for ’is keep
I soon realised that I ‘ad a much needed friend
If a customer got out of ’and
The valiant Jock would be there to defend
We always ’ad money and it never ran low
Where ’e got ’is from I wouldn’t bloody know
But ask no questions and you’ll get no lies
Accept things as they are and never surmise
That was ’ow things went for a while
Until one day ’e got ’ome with a very broad smile
“Nancy, what ye need is a better class gent,” ‘e said to me. “It’ll mean we have tae move and pay a higher rent.”
That was the start
I was about to become a different kind of tart
My mentor was an Irish girl by the name of Siobhan
As soon as we met we really got on
“I’ll show ye a thing or two,” she told me. “My customers pay me to tell them what to do.”

Monday, 7 March 2016

Oh, sister 1 (Memoirs of Robert Brown i)

Ah wis born Robert Henry Broon
A Scot fae Glasgow that moved tae London toon
It’s no like there wisnae much work goin’ aroon’
But the polis were efter me an’ ah didnae fancy goin’ doon
So there wis nae point in stayin’
An’ ma poor wee maw wis always at the chapel prayin’
And moanin’ tae Father Beast
Well, that’s what ah called the dirty priest
His real name wis Father Boyce
A man wi’ an unhealthy interest in pre-pubescent boys
Like that time when ah wis ten an’ ah went for a piddle
The sleekit wee celibate couldnae resist a wee fiddle
That wis the first time an’ definitely the last
But let’s jist leave it at that as it’s aw in the past
So back tae what ah wis sayin’
Aboot the trouble ah wis in an’ how ah widnae be stayin’
Ma maw an’ the priest had a wee meetin’
Efter she ran oot o’ the hoose wi’ her face stained fae greetin’
“Oh, Father Boyce!” she’d sobbed. “Ah have tae shop him tae the polis. Ah don’t have a choice.”
“Calm yer fears an’ dry yer tears, Mrs. Brown,” he’d told her. “We’ll send the lad tae London town.”
“But how wid it help tae send him doon there?” she’d asked him. “Jist merr waifs and strays. He widnae have a prayer.”
“Ah know a man that could take oan Rab if he’s prepared tae steer a hansom cab.”
That’s how it went
Ah tried tae resist but they were baith hell bent
Ah wis given some money an’ a reference letter
An’ told that things wid soon get better
So, withoot merr fuss or delay
The very next day ah wis oan ma way
Doon tae the Smoke tae see this bloke
It wid be an understatement tae say that life wis bleak
An’ the job ah wis offered only lasted a week
Ah have tae tell ye that it wis me that quit
Sixteen hour shifts an’ then hame tae a flea pit
Naw, that wisnae for me
An’ for that simple reason ah’m sure ye’ll agree
It wis the time o’ the reign o’ Queen Victoria
An’ life for the workin’ class wis far fae euphoria
Aw strugglin’ tae make ends meet
So many homeless oot in the street
But ah wisnae prepared tae sink
An’ wan night in the East End a went for a drink
Wan o’ these dingy wee places
Frequented by rogues wi’ scars oan their faces
And scores o’ whores wi’ unsightly sores
That wis where ah first met Nancy
“Two shillings or three?” she said to me. “Two for the usual and three will get you whatever you fancy.”
Ah’d jist taken a slug o’ beer an’ she caused me tae choke. “Away ye go, hen,” ah told her. “Ah’m jist aboot broke.”
“Then buy me a drink an’ I’ll ’elp you out of danger. This ’ere pub ain’t safe for a stranger.”

Friday, 4 March 2016

Message to all who view my blog

Due to a possible publishing deal, I’m unable to post any further parts of the ‘Oh, brother’ tale. If it fails to go though, I will post the remaining parts. My apologies. Coming soon – ‘Oh sister’- another rhyming tale set in Victorian London.