Author: Francis Duggan


In the day she's seldom seen out like the snail she's in her shell
But at night she dress up and put on makeup to look good for the clientele
And then she walk to the street corner at the top of Acland Street
And for three or four or even five hours you will see her on her beat.

Her hair dyed blond she is only thirty but she has known a better day
most men like their women younger and for her services they won't pay
Dyes and makeup are not fool proof they don't hide age and decay
And there is a young one of twenty only half a block away.

For the past few years her income dwindling and business for her has gone down
And she must compete with younger women and there's many all over Town
She once had ten or more clients a night and now she's lucky to have five
And as she age life so much harder and so much harder to survive.

Those who feel they have right to judge her say her soul is bound for hell
But how others feel about her does not seem to bother Nell
They don't pay rent to her landlord don't help her in any way
When she needed love and support she will tell you where were they?

Where were they when she was homeless like a lost dog of the Street
Rummaging through bins of rubbish in search of something to eat
Half eaten sandwiches and over ripe fruits she lived out of rubbis bin
And where were they who now condemn her who see her as one of sin?

At thirteen she became homeless when her mum left her manic dad
She was better off a street kid home for her was worse than bad
She still has nightmares of her hard days all those lonely years ago
And if she tell you life's not easy she is one who ought to know.

Those who think that they have right to judge her say her soul is bound for hell
But how others feel about her never seem to bother Nell
When the landlord ask her for rent her critics don't help her pay
And when she needed love and support they were missing where were they?


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