Lucy Grace can’t show her face down in the North End Road
For in Belgravia rumours have been whispered and suggestions have been made
Did you sell your friends out when the heat got too intense?
You say you like the danger but it’s only a pretense
You say you need the money
When everybody knows you can always fall back on your inheritance
Did you bruise your arms on those false alarms?
Did you bruise your pride on his smile so wide?
Only fingertips from forbidden bliss
Did you bruise your lips on this basement kiss?
Who’s that sneaking ‘round the door?
You can’t come here no more
Can’t you go home again?
She used to sit alone for hours
Spend her evenings watering dried flowers
When her mother came to stay and finally went to bed
Lucy Grace was in the front room shooting through your head
She tried to take your breath away and give you something else instead
Did you bruise your arms on those false alarms?
Did you bruise your pride on his smile so wide?
Only fingertips from forbidden bliss
Did you bruise your lips on this basement kiss?
Next year she’ll serve her function in her Audrey Hepburn hat
It still won’t suit her much but she’ll get over that
She’ll be pale and feign indifference as they’re handing out the prizes
Spilling Daddy’s words of wisdom and her ugly sister’s tranquilizers
Why were you so tardy putting up your guard?
When you hurt so easily and you try so hard
Did you bruise your arms on those false alarms?
Did you bruise your pride on his face so snide?
Only fingertips from forbidden bliss
Did you bruise you lips on this basement kiss?
Have been spending some quality time with this rare song-found recently in a bargain bin on the WEA single for "Thirteen Steps Lead Down" along with the lesser songs "Puppet Girl" and "We Despise You" in a local library sale shop for the crisp price of 25 cents. The prize is this wonderful tune.
It is difficult to understand why he has chosen to never release this again or enhance it with a full studio treatment. As it exists I am enthralled with its interlocutory lyric. It is a very sophisticated play upon that style of composition that saw its golden period in the middle sixties with Dylan and Lennon/McCartney. It's narrative style is refreshing and the clean lines and rhymes flow sweetly in contrast to the sentiment within the lyric. The contrast of the 'spoiled' little rich girl conceit with the spoiling [or bruising] of the emotion of 'love' is playful and intelligent and cutting in the best "Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat" mode. The spread of the bruise[its darkening effect] throughout the stanzas is evocative and a nice touch. The accompanying jingle/jangle guitar sounds Elvis adds to the melody serve to ably enhance the words and provide a thinly veiled 'cynical' counterpoint to the pointed words. Would again welcome a full workup of this song in the future.
It often reminds me of this effort by an older satirist:
THE RUINED MAID
by: Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)
" 'Melia, my dear, this does everything crown!
Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town?
And whence such fair garments, such prosperi-ty?"--
"O didn't you know I'd been ruined?" said she.
"You left us in tatters, without shoes or socks,
Tired of digging potatoes, and spudding up docks;
And now you've gay bracelets and bright feathers three!"--
"Yes: that's how we dress when we're ruined," said she.
-- "At home in the barton you said `thee' and `thou,'
And `thik oon,' and `theäs oon,' and `t'other'; but now
Your talking quite fits 'ee for high compa-ny!"--
"Some polish is gained with one's ruin," said she.
-- "Your hands were like paws then, your face blue and bleak
But now I'm bewitched by your delicate cheek,
And your little gloves fit as on any la-dy!"--
"We never do work when we're ruined," said she.
-- "You used to call home-life a hag-ridden dream,
And you'd sigh, and you'd sock; but at present you seem
To know not of megrims or melancho-ly!"--
"True. One's pretty lively when ruined," said she.
-- "I wish I had feathers, a fine sweeping gown,
And a delicate face, and could strut about Town!"--
"My dear -- a raw country girl, such as you be,
Cannot quite expect that. You ain't ruined," said she.
It must be nice to have a catalog so deep that one can afford to leave a song of this quality in the shadows.
