1. |
He Comes to See Sally
05:16
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He Comes to See Sally
He comes to see Sally
Thinking to deceive himself.
The arse that he craves
All done up in corsets and stays.
And if my prick should slip in his mouth,
Well how could he deny
Pleasure to such a fine lady as I?
No molly is he,
A gentleman be,
His appetites fine and proper.
Fuck me like a girl
And slip me some coin for my supper.
Tyburn looms for me
But never for thee,
Your titles a shield, like a priest’s dick in summer.
And your hands, they wander and tighten round my neck.
It means nothing to you, you rich motherfucker!
His prick in my ass
And his hands round my throat.
His fingertips crushing
And cutting off air.
A rush in my ears
And red in my eyes.
I mean nothing to him
I mean nothing to him.
Can’t scream for mother!
There’s a knife in my bodice.
Can’t scream for mother!
There’s a knife in my hand.
Can’t scream for mother!
There’s a knife in his throat
And his fingers release
And the red starts to fade
Till it flows.
You dead motherfucker
Your money’s no good to you.
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2. |
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Mother Gives Hard Comfort
[Hitting 4/4 beat and looping]
Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream
Worm white flesh. Death black blood.
Sliding out from underneath
His body growing heavy with its
Loss of blood and soul and intent
Both blood smeared as newborn infants
Creeping to the door I softly call for mother
Seeking succour
Pull my knife from his throat
Tyburn looming heavy in my mind.
[Looping]
The hanging tree
She enters
Sees the bloody scene
Sees my tears start to stream
She holds me close, squeezes tight
Tells me that I have done right
“This evil fuck will pay his due,
His life, his coin, his very flesh
Are ours to do with as we will
The law can hang itself but never you!”
“We’ll cut his purse,
“And spend it freely.
“We’ll cut his clothes,
“And burn them carefully.
“We’ll cut his face
“So no one knows
“This fat and wormlike corpse.”
“We’re losing Tommy to informers and Tyburn
“To the judges who’ll fuck and hang you
“And I’ll not lose a daughter too
“I’ll not lose a daughter too.
“I’ll not lose you, Sally dearest!
“I’ll not lose you, Sally, so grab your knife!”
“We’ll take him to the resurrection men!”
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3. |
A Lover's Body
04:36
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A Lover’s Body
Black mud
Dried Blood
Dragged him through the streets in windings
Just two more girls with a sack of dirt
Stumble safely through the darkness
Just two more girls invisible and poor
Room full of corpses
Air full of rot
Every slab a corpse
We dump our faceless burden on the stone
Every slab a loved one
But only this a rich man’s tomb as well
They’ll all go to the surgeons
Cut up and despised
I scan the row of faces
And suddenly I recognise
When last I saw him Newgate pale
He held me tight as cord round bale
His cheeks alight with fever’s fire
His chains wrapped tight by that fucking liar
And now he’s dead and cold on stone
His eyes as milk, his skin like bone
The lips that kissed me
The mouth that engulfed me
A home for rot and worms
The hanging was tomorrow
Why’s he lying here?
The bastards killed him early
The bastards rushed him here
Threw a rope around his neck
And brought true my worst fear
There’ll be no grave to mourn
Just pickled flesh for the surgeons
A rope to snap his neck,
Another faggot broken for the fire
He called me Sally and held me as a girl
Never feel him spend inside me
Never feel his breath upon my neck
Never feel his hand on my breast
Never share his warmth in winter cold
He should not be here
“Mother, why’s he here?” I scream
She holds me, begs me look again
She holds me, begs me look again
“This isn’t Tommy, he’s in Newgate still,
“Your eyes deceive you, your lover’s still alive”
The illusion fades, a stranger lying there.
“Tommy will never lie in this place…”
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4. |
Armed For War
06:54
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Armed for War
Loss hangs in stagnant air
Grief lies like crushing stone
Our love a haven from their brutish world
Our touch unladen with their priestly fears
Of cock and cunt and hands and ass
And mouth and lips and throat and tears
We fuck through grief that tears at heart
We fuck through fear of hangman's art
As desperate as the prick in my ass
As needy as the breast in my mouth
We huddle together in fear of the dawn
We all cum together to get through the storm.
Tommy will die by the rope in the morning
Dried cum on my face will run with my weeping
The bastards decided to murder some mollies
And we can feel close as we fuck just to spite them
We can do nothing to rescue our lover
But the knives of the surgeons will never defile him
We'll take up our blades and our cudgels and courage
And take to the streets ferocious and always
Armed for war
The morning after
The crowds, the cold
The fog, the lust
At Tyburn told
Cunts are groped
And pricks are sucked
A lust for blood and flesh confused
We stand grim faced with our cudgels and knives
Aloof from the crowd, our purpose defined
All eyes on the gallows, the cart drawing near
Our lover stands straight, his eyes full of fear
No words for the crowd, no remorse only loss
He knows that our love is more powerful than god's
A hood and a rope, a stool kicked clear
A moment of darkness, the snap heard clear
No time for grief
No space for fear
Slash to the left, slash to the right
Skirts arc out, blood sprays cold
Faggot war cry, screech of rage
The crowd scrambles clear
Parts like the sea
His body cut down from the gallows
Thrown down like trash as the king's men stand clear
"He's ours!"
He called me Sally and held me as a girl.
"You'll see me as woman as I tear out your throat
"Address me as a girl as your blood gurgles out
"These stays and these skirts are no strangers to blood
"His body is ours, his body is ours!"
They turn and they flee and leave him in the mud
The anger of a Molly more terrible than god's
We collect him and nurse and carry him home
Tommy is ours to have and to hold and to mourn.
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Without History Wales, UK
Without History is one trans girl, her bass guitars and her looper. Exploring trans history through neofolk and post punk inspired music these songs try to imagine the lives of our trans ancestors in all their messy queer detail.
Without History recommends:
Left/Folk and A Blaze Ansuz curated compilation in aid of Residential School survivors on which one of my forthcoming songs appears.
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