There's a place your mother goes
When everybody else is soundly sleeping
Through the lights of beacon street
And if you listen you can hear her weeping
She's weeping
'Cause the gentlemen are calling
And the snow is softly falling
On her petticoats
And she's standing in the harbor
And she's waiting for the sailors
In the jolly boat
See how they approach?
With dirty hands and trousers torn
They grapple 'til she's safe within their keeping
A gag is placed between her lips
To keep her sorry tongue from any speaking
Or screamin'
And they row her out to packets
Where the sailor's sorry racket
Calls for maidenhead
And she's scarce above the gunwales
When her clothes fall to a bundle
And she's laid in bed
On the upper deck
And so she goes from ship to ship
Her ankles clasped, her arms so rudely pinioned
'Til at last she's satisfied
The lot of the marina's teeming minions
In their opinions
And they tell her not to say a thing
To cousin, kindred, kith or kin
Or she'll end up dead
And they throw her thirty dollars
And return her to the harbor
Where she goes to bed
And this is how your fed
So be kind to your mother
Though she may seem an awful bother
And the next time she tries to feed you collard greens
Remember what she does when you're asleep
Remember what she does when you're asleep
When everybody else is soundly sleeping
Through the lights of beacon street
And if you listen you can hear her weeping
She's weeping
'Cause the gentlemen are calling
And the snow is softly falling
On her petticoats
And she's standing in the harbor
And she's waiting for the sailors
In the jolly boat
See how they approach?
With dirty hands and trousers torn
They grapple 'til she's safe within their keeping
A gag is placed between her lips
To keep her sorry tongue from any speaking
Or screamin'
And they row her out to packets
Where the sailor's sorry racket
Calls for maidenhead
And she's scarce above the gunwales
When her clothes fall to a bundle
And she's laid in bed
On the upper deck
And so she goes from ship to ship
Her ankles clasped, her arms so rudely pinioned
'Til at last she's satisfied
The lot of the marina's teeming minions
In their opinions
And they tell her not to say a thing
To cousin, kindred, kith or kin
Or she'll end up dead
And they throw her thirty dollars
And return her to the harbor
Where she goes to bed
And this is how your fed
So be kind to your mother
Though she may seem an awful bother
And the next time she tries to feed you collard greens
Remember what she does when you're asleep
Remember what she does when you're asleep
Lyrics submitted by Hunter, edited by antiaverage, AbuDun
A Cautionary Song Lyrics as written by Colin Meloy
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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I think this song is much more tongue-in-cheek than a lot of people seem to think. I see it much more as an elaborate lie told by maybe a nanny or a grandmother or something to get a young child to appreciate the food they're given better. I think the more graphic the more effective it would be in this case, and this song is graphic to the point that it's over-the-top. It's obviously being told to a child (who else would be so upset about their mother telling them to eat collard greens). It's more than likely false due to the fact that she only does it when everyone's sleeping and she's told not to tell anyone she knows what she does (stipulations which would silence questions about why she hadn't mentioned any of this before). I personally love the song.
I agree, the lyrics and rhythmic timing seem to me to be invested with an aura of fantasy; I can't say that there's any certainty this is a lie told by a nanny ... but look at the title "A Cautionary Song" ... as there are also "Cautionary Tales".<br /> <br /> But maybe the genius of the song is neither in what someone above called the courage to speak plainly about rape and prostitution, nor in the brilliant fabrication to scare / guilt a child into compliance.<br /> <br /> We all, at some point, do (and feel compelled to do) things we'd rather not. Whether it's an alarm clock at 330am or getting dressed up for an event we'd rather miss ... we prostitute ourselves, sooner or later, in bigger or smaller ways. And we tend to think quite highly of ourselves, a bit of holy aura over our 'victimization' and of the suffering we accept "for the greater good."<br /> <br /> Perhaps the comedy of this song is buried a little deeper -- a gently mockery, a reminder we should not take our own suffering too seriously or pat ourselves on the back too generously ...<br /> <br /> I found the song brilliant, one of the thirty or so best I've heard this decade.
I agree. Except for the line about collard greens, this really sounds to me like one big, elaborate yo-mamma joke. I love it, but it definitely sounds like more of a joke song than some of their other stuff. The rhyme scheme definitely lends itself to the joking air, I think. Despite the language and the connotation of it all, it's got sort of a Dr. Seuss feel in how it rhymes, in sort of a weird way.
@n00t I think your right because it is especially evident when he says "and this is how you're fed..." Talk about a guilt trip