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Magdalen Laundries - Christy Moore
When they sent her to the sisters
Because of the way men looked at her
Branded as a jezebel she knew she was not bound for heaven
She had been cast in shame into the Magdalen launderies
Most girls went there pregnant some by their own fathers
Bridget got her belly from the Parish Priest
They're trying to wash things as white
As snow all of those woe-begotten daughters
In the steaming stains of the Magdalen launderies
Prostitutes and destitutes and temptresses like Joanie
Fallen women sentenced into dreamless drudgery
Why do the call this place Our Lady Of Charity
Of Charity
These bloodless brides of Jesus
If they could just once glimpse their groom
They'd drop the stones concealed behind their rosaries
They wilt the grass they walk upon they leech the light out of a room
They'd like to wash
Those girls down the drains of The Magdalene Launderies
Peg O'Connell died today
She was a cheeky girl they stuffed her in a hole
Surely to God you'd think at least some bells should ring
Joanie thinks she'll die there too
And that they'll tramp her in the dirt
Like some lame bulb that never will bloom
When the springtime comes
When the springtime comes
