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I remember it all very well lookin' back |
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It was the summer that I turned eighteen. |
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We lived in a one-room, run down shack |
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on the outskirts of New Orleans. |
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We didn't have money for food or rent |
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to say the least we were hard-pressed |
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when Momma spent every last penny we had |
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to buy me a dancin' dress. |
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Momma washed and combed and curled my hair, |
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then she painted my eyes and lips. |
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And I stepped into the satin dancin' dress. |
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It had a split in the side clean up to my hips. |
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It was red, velvet-trimmed, |
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to fit me good |
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and standin' back from the lookin' glass |
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was a woman |
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where a half grown kid had stood. |
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'Here's your one chance, |
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Fancy, don't let me down! |
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Here's your one chance, |
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Fancy, don't let me down. |
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Lord forgive me for what I do, |
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But if you want out then it's up to you |
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Don't let me down |
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your momma's gonna help you move uptown.' |
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Momma dabbed a bit of perfume |
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on my neck and she kissed my cheek |
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And I saw the tears well up |
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in her troubled eyes when she started to speak |
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She looked at our pitiful shack and then |
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she looked at me and took a ragged breath |
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Your Pa's run off, and I'm real sick |
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and the baby's gonna starve to death. |
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She handed me a heart-shaped locket that said |
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'To thine own self be true' |
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and I shivered as I watched a roach crawl across |
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the toe of my high-heal shoe |
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It sounded like somebody else who was talkin' |
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askin', 'Momma what do I do?' |
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Just be nice to the gentlemen, Fancy. |
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And they'll be nice to you.' |
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'Here's your one chance, Fancy, |
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don't let me down! |
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Here's your one chance, Fancy, |
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don't let me down. |
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Lord forgive me for what I do, |
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But if you want out then it's up to you |
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Don't let me down, |
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Your momma's gonna help you move uptown.' |
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Well that was the last time I saw my momma |
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The night I left that rickety shack |
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Cos welfare people came and took the baby. |
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Momma died and I ain't been back. |
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But the wheels of fate had started to turn |
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and for me there was no other way out. |
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And it wasn't very long till I knew exactly |
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what my ma had been talkin' 'bout. |
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I did what I had to do. |
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But I made myself a solemn vow: |
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That I was gonna to be a lady someday |
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though I don't know when or how. |
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I couldn't see spendin' the rest of my life |
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with my head hung down in shame. |
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I might have been born just plain white trash. |
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but Fancy was my name. |
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'Here's your one chance, Fancy, |
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don't let me down! |
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Here's your one chance, Fancy, |
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don't let me down. |
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It wasn't very long a benevolent man |
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took me in off the street |
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And one week later I was pourin' his tea |
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in a five roomed hotel suite. |
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Well I've charmed a king, a congressman |
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and an occasional aristocrat |
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and I've got me a Georgia mansion |
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and an elegant New York townhouse flat. |
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Now in this world there's a lot of self-righteous |
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hypocrites who call me bad. |
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And criticize Momma for turning me out |
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No matter how little we had. |
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And though I hadn't had to worry about nothin' |
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For nigh on fifteen years |
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I can still hear the desperation |
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in my poor mommas voice ringin' in my ears. |
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'Here's your one chance, |
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Fancy, don't let me down! |
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Here's your one chance, |
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Fancy, don't let me down. |
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Lord forgive me for what I do, |
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But if you want out then it's up to you |
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Don't let me down, |
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Your momma's gonna help you move uptown.' |