Working Girls Lyrics - Singles - Redgum

She said she came from Portland 

Where the ashen skies and leaden ocean 

Left her like the local boys, barren of emotion 

As we talked we watched the raindrops 

Running down the window 

Laundromat in Darlinghurst, 

Like a fish shop from the past. 

And her mother called her Mary 

After Mary Magdalene, 

To deny her beauty 

Would have been the greatest sin 

It was a profile in the neon and a Kings Cross Doorway lean 

To half an hour of tending someone else's tangled dream. 

There were lines of sailors, lines of speed 

Lines upon the Footpath where she stared 

When things were quiet, as night deferred to dawn. 

And the coke cups played red rover 

In the breeze that scuttled through the streets 

Taxies left for greener fields 

While Sydney stretched and yawned 

And her mother called her Mary 

After Mary Magdalene, 

There were virgins in the morning, 

She had sisters in the pain; 

And the wives would clutch their husbands 

Perhaps they shared the shame, 

'cause working streets and Weddingrings are sometimes much the same. 

She tap-danced with the buskers 

Near the subway shouting blues songs 

They remembered from their teenage years of dreamtime radio. 

And the years withdrew behind her eyes 

To let the little girl look out 

In simple childish innocence 

At drawings in the sand. 

And her mother called her Mary 

After Mary Magdalene, 

She had long dark hair and massage oil 

And a key to let you in; 

And the lines upon her face were maps of roads she'd travelled, 

Lined with people throwing stones because they didn't understand, 

That a half an hour of tenderness (perhaps they shared the same) 

'cause working streets and Weddingrings are sometimes much the same.