Hoors? Yeah... Hoors. Prostitutes, Tarts, Hookers, Ladies of Negotiable Affection, call them what you will. For 8 years or so I lived in granite tenement. My Neighbours Were Hoors. Sadly for us all (!?) the brothel was closed down and I moved out of the area. I never did get around to writing about the court case though...

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

I Wrote A Song

In the style of Father Lionel Fanthorpe... I wrote a song. And here it is, it's called "The My Neighbours Are Hoors Song"

It's to be sung to the tune of Nicky Tams - because apparently everyone's first song has to be written to the tune of Nicky Tams. (OK. It's not my first song. That was "Prozac at Christmas," and that was co-written to the tune of "Happy Christmas (War is Over)")

It's also in doric. If you need a translation, leave a comment.

My Neighbours Are Hoors

Well, I bought my flat in a tenement in 1998
It was auld and quite a mess and I'd hae tae decorate
But I got myself a mortgage, everything was going fine
Til one day the upstairs neighbour said “Can I hae a quick word, quine”

“Ye see I think ye need tae ken fits goin on doonstairs
There’s been lots o mannies visiting, and sometimes they’re in pairs
They just bide fur half an hour or so and they’re comin' at a oors”
And that was when I first found out that my neighbours were hoors

So then I’d tae be paranoid o’ openin’ doors tae men
There were times that I wid hav tae say “I’m nae aene o them!”
My mither she was horrified, my faither nae at a
He said "Maybe they’ll gie ye a job if ye need a bob or twa"

They’d be queuing at the door sometimes, two or maybe three
For there’s mony a lonely oil man will pay for company
And the passions o’ the punters were very clearly stirred
For the sounds o’ whips coming through the wa was occasionally heard

Well the neighbour fa bides across the road wiz nae impressed at a
In fact she cam and said tae me “I hiv informed the law”
But the polis kent a aboot them, they hidnae escaped detection
In fact, it seemed a o’ Aiberdeen kent o’ our Ladies of Negotiable Affection

The next eight years were eventful for these hoors were nae discrete
It could be mair entertaining than Coronation Street
Twa hoors aence hid a party, the wine it freely flowed
But the evening ended, they were apprehended for fightin in the road

One day there was a trail o blood, horrid thoughts ran through my head
A Doric Jack the Ripper, had killed them in their bed
I called the polis straight away, they left the door ajar
I keekit in and saw twa bobbies rifling through their drawers

One day the Jehovas Witnesses were coming roon the doors
Unaware oor tenement housed twa hard working whores
First they lectured me on Godless deeds and the dangers o temptation
Then they ask-ed me if I kent onyone that could do wi some salvation

Well the de'il on my shoulder, he gave oot a gleeful cry
And he said “This opportunity, it cannae pass ye by”
So I said “Kind sirs, If you’re looking for those that sorely need your prayers
Ye neednae look nae further than the tarts wi hearts doonstairs"

Aifter eight long years I’m sad tae say the brothel was shut doon
Now the hoors must walk the streets at nicht the ither side o toon
I miss my harlot neighbours they were the best in Aiberdeen
For they said good day, they worked hard, and they kept their passage clean

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

and surely at such gatherings to commemorate the goings on of teh hoors and the punters one would have to consider reference to 'hiding the mealie puddin'yah?