| Song | The Magdalene Laundries |
| Artist | The Chieftains |
| Album | Tears Of Stone |
| 作词 : Mitchell | |
| i was an unmarried girl | |
| i'd just turned twenty-seven | |
| when they sent me to the sisters | |
| for the way men looked at me | |
| branded as a jezebel | |
| i knew i was not bound for heaven | |
| i?d be cast in shame | |
| into the magdalene laundries | |
| most girls come here pregnant | |
| some by their own fathers | |
| bridget got that belly | |
| by her parish priest | |
| we're trying to get things white as snow | |
| all of us woe-begotten-daughters | |
| in the streaming stains | |
| of the magdalene laundries | |
| prostitutes and destitutes | |
| and temptresses like me-- | |
| fallen women-- | |
| sentenced into dreamless drudgery ... | |
| why do they call this heartless place | |
| our lady of charity? | |
| oh charity! | |
| these bloodless brides of jesus | |
| if they had just once glimpsed their groom | |
| then they'd know, and 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 drive us down the drain | |
| at the magdalene laundries | |
| peg o'connell died today | |
| she was a cheeky girl | |
| a flirt | |
| they just stuffed her in a hole! | |
| surely to god you?d think at least some bells should ring! | |
| one day i'm going to die here too | |
| and they'll plant me in the dirt | |
| like some lame bulb | |
| that never blooms come any spring | |
| not any spring | |
| no, not any spring | |
| not any spring |
| zuò cí : Mitchell | |
| i was an unmarried girl | |
| i' d just turned twentyseven | |
| when they sent me to the sisters | |
| for the way men looked at me | |
| branded as a jezebel | |
| i knew i was not bound for heaven | |
| i? d be cast in shame | |
| into the magdalene laundries | |
| most girls come here pregnant | |
| some by their own fathers | |
| bridget got that belly | |
| by her parish priest | |
| we' re trying to get things white as snow | |
| all of us woebegottendaughters | |
| in the streaming stains | |
| of the magdalene laundries | |
| prostitutes and destitutes | |
| and temptresses like me | |
| fallen women | |
| sentenced into dreamless drudgery ... | |
| why do they call this heartless place | |
| our lady of charity? | |
| oh charity! | |
| these bloodless brides of jesus | |
| if they had just once glimpsed their groom | |
| then they' d know, and 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 drive us down the drain | |
| at the magdalene laundries | |
| peg o' connell died today | |
| she was a cheeky girl | |
| a flirt | |
| they just stuffed her in a hole! | |
| surely to god you? d think at least some bells should ring! | |
| one day i' m going to die here too | |
| and they' ll plant me in the dirt | |
| like some lame bulb | |
| that never blooms come any spring | |
| not any spring | |
| no, not any spring | |
| not any spring |