For the love of money/A woman will sell her precious body. – The O’Jays
It’s been a while since I’ve done a whore songs column, so I figured there was no time like the present. Let’s start out with a blues classic, featuring a lady who only has seven informal clients…though she sees them very regularly!
A Man for Every Day in the Week (Sippie Wallace)
I am feeling mean and blue,
Evil as can be,
‘Cause me and my seven men,
We all can’t agree.
They keep me bothered night and day,
Right down to the end.
But the money I get from all of my men,
Is money I’m proud to spend.
Now my Monday man, he works on 4th and Main
My Tuesday man gives me my spendin’ change
My Wednesday man buys my hats and shoes
My Thursday man don’t care what I do
Now, my Friday man he buys my home-brewed beer
My Saturday man (unintelligible)
My Sunday man he’s dressed so nice and neat
He’s a nice, clean man I’m always eager to meet.
I got a regular man for each morn I rise
Bring me so much money every day pass by
I want you all to learn to make your ends all meet,
And have a nice, good man for every day in the week!
One could be forgiven for thinking the next selection is about a rent boy, given that its title is “Rent” and the singer is male. But songwriter Neil Tennant said, “I’ve always imagined it’s about a kept woman, and I always imagined it set in America. I…imagined that this politician keeps this woman in a smart flat in Manhattan, and he’s still got this family, and the two of them have some [sort] of relationship and they do love each other but it’s all kind of secret…”
Rent (Pet Shop Boys)
You dress me up
I’m your puppet
You buy me things
I love it
You bring me food
I need it
You give me love
I feed it
And look at the two of us in sympathy
with everything we see
I never want anything, it’s easy
you buy whatever I need
But look at my hopes, look at my dreams
the currency we’ve spent
I love you, you pay my rent
I love you, you pay my rent
You phoned me in the evening on hearsay
and bought me caviar
You took me to a restaurant off Broadway
to tell me who you are
We never, ever argue, we never calculate
the currency we’ve spent
I love you, you pay my rent
I love you, you pay my rent
I’m your puppet
I love it
And look at the two of us in sympathy
and sometimes ecstasy
Words mean so little and money less
when you’re lying next to me
But look at my hopes, look at my dreams
the currency we’ve spent
I love you, you pay my rent
I love you, you pay my rent
It’s easy, it’s so easy
The next song is unusual in that it was written and sung by an actual sex worker from Ireland, Kate McGrew (better known as Lady Grew); I’m just going to let it speak for itself:
Hey Lady (Kate McGrew)
I won’t let them say that it’s wrong
Cuz I am that I am
And ain’t it sweet how we ache?
Won’t let them say that I’m wrong
Boy, I’ll show you wrong
(refrain)Hey lady you’re shining
Let your moon rise lady
You’re shining shining
Light all leading
Your heart your home
Bright and calling
Night fallen lady
You’re shining
(rap) In these meat-covered bones I’m a ghost and I drive it
hum and moan of our ghosts as they’re colliding
my time imma sell it / take yours and do what
as long as your happy I swear I couldn’t give a fuck
abolitionists in this patriarchy go home!
give women the power then leave us good and alone
cooperation has been forgotten lately
I’m a lady of the night
I don’t need your saving
(refrain)
(rap) See they’d have you believe that it’s all for your good
cuz surely with freedom you wouldn’t act like you should
we can’t be trusted with action over hope
or when’s the best time that our seed be sown
for millions of years we trusted the group
then culture came in and now we’re told what to do
cerebral cortices grow
but so does empathy
nature and nurture can exist in peace
(refrain)
Who are we?
All we see is light in mirrors
You’re light in my mirror
Who are we?
All we see is light in mirrors
Light
(refrain)
All y’all ladies you’re shining shining
Won’t let them say that it’s wrong
Cuz I am that I am
And ain’t it sweet how we ache?
There’s no way I could do a song column right now without one from Prince; I think no other artist was so universally beloved by sex workers, especially strippers. There are a number of his songs that read as hookerish to me, but none other as much as “Darling Nikki”. Now, you may disagree, and it’s certainly not stated in the song. However: Nikki hangs out in hotel lobbies, comes on to men she’s just met, has every device “money could buy”, asks the narrator to sign his name on a form of some sort (a credit card slip, perhaps?) and leaves what sounds like a business card. Yeah, that’s a whore in my mind. Prince was notoriously aggressive about having his videos removed from YouTube, so we’ll see how long this video lasts; I’ll try to refresh it with a new copy whenever it’s yanked.
Darling Nikki (Prince)
I knew a girl named Nikki
I guess you could say she was a sex fiend
I met her in a hotel lobby
Masturbating with a magazine
She said how’d you like to waste some time
And I could not resist when I saw little Nikki grind
She took me to her castle
And I just couldn’t believe my eyes
She had so many devices
Everything that money could buy
She said sign your name on the dotted line
The lights went out
And Nikki started to grind
Nikki
The castle started spinning
Or maybe it was my brain
I can’t tell you what she did to me
But my body will never be the same
Her lovin’ will kick your behind
Oh, she’ll show you no mercy
But she’ll sho’nuff sho’nuff show you how to grind
Darlin’ Nikki
Woke up the next morning
Nikki wasn’t there
I looked all over and all I found
Was a phone number on the stairs
It said thank you for a funky time
Call me up whenever you want to grind
Oh, Nikki, ohhhh
Come back Nikki, come back
Your dirty little Prince
Wanna grind grind grind grind grind grind grind grind grind
