'no love' from a woman's perspective

Subject: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST
Date: 26 May 14 - 01:56 PM

Hello

I'm looking for songs which are sang from a woman's perspective in which love is not the major theme of the song.

Looking mostly for Irish songs of this type but will happy with whatever people bring forth.

Thanks
A

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Big Al Whittle
Date: 26 May 14 - 02:50 PM

peggy seeger's I wanna be an engineer.

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Bonnie Shaljean
Date: 26 May 14 - 03:00 PM

Janis Ian's "At Seventeen"

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Bonnie Shaljean
Date: 26 May 14 - 03:07 PM

Nanci Griffith's "Listen To The Radio" (sorry for the single posts... brain is in Dribble Mode this evening.

This could be sung by either a man or a woman, if memory serves. Does it have to be a gender-specific female viewpoint? And do you mean any type of love, or just romantic love? If so, there are a number of mother's lament songs for their dead or lost (e.g. Magdalen Laundry and the like) children.

Which brings to mind Joni Mitchell's "Little Green".

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Big Al Whittle
Date: 26 May 14 - 03:18 PM

billie holliday strange fruit
Bessie smith down and out blues
so much of the joan baez catalogue

to be honest I can think most women on the folk scene aren't content to be restricted to lovey dove stuff

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Jack Campin
Date: 26 May 14 - 03:27 PM

"Johnny I Hardly Knew You".

"Caller Herrin".

Wendy Arrowsmith's lullaby for children whose father is about to lose his job as a fisherman (title has gone out of my head) - come to think of it, a LOT of Wendy Arrowsmith songs

Alastair Hulett's "He Fades Away".

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Jack Campin
Date: 26 May 14 - 03:32 PM

Remembered it. "Sleep Well Till Morning".

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WYZq-1YACyc

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST,Tony
Date: 26 May 14 - 03:45 PM

Acres of Corn by Tom Russell

When I was a child, I spoke as a child.
Now I'm a grown woman, but my thoughts are still wild.
I thought I'd see London, or maybe Paree,
but I'm starin' at cornfields, that are starin' at me.
But dreams are just things, that you keep in a jar.
You bury your dreams, or you wish on a star,
Or an ocean line ticket, back to where you were born,
and away from these hard times, and the acres of corn.

Every now and again, I take a small drink
from the blackberry brandy hidden under the sink.
And I pull out that steam trunk, I put on my gown,
and I walk through these cornfields till I fall to the ground.
But dreams are just things that you keep in a trunk
till the men are out workin', or you're on a big drunk.
Then you unlock your dreams, but they're tattered and worn.
So you stare out the window, at the acres of corn.


Childhood Memories by Iris DeMent

Fireflies inside of a mason jar. Acting big behind the wheel of Daddy's car.
Playing church around the old piano stand;
you were quite a preacher, and we sang so grand.
I remember every night what we would say and do:
"If you've forgiven me, then I've forgiven you."
And now, when life begins to get the best of me,
I reminisce these childhood memories.

We built a raft and travelled all around the world
and stopped for penny candy at the corner store.
You let me fly your kite, but then I dropped the string;
I thought my life was over, but Mama rescued me.
When I was just a kid, you taught my prayers to me;
Then you turned around and told me about those birds and bees.
Come what may, you've been endeared to me,
because we share these childhood memories.

Time, it moved so fast; those days are over now.
We've all gone our separate ways, but still somehow
I often need to telephone and talk to you,
to see if you remember things the way I do.
It won't be much longer till we're old and gray,
winding up our travels on life's highway.
But no matter where I roam, I've got you here with me,
when I reminisce these childhood memories.


Morning Glory by Iris DeMent

Morning glory. Fuchsia and green.
You sweet little Jezebel in my garden of dreams.
Petals wrapped tightly in the late morning sun.
My day is just starting. Your day is done.

A bright monarch butterfly alights upon you.
Again and again he probes, trying so hard to get through.
He dances and somersaults, then floats away blue.
His golden ambition could not sway you.

Vines choke the south side porch. Up the lattice they climb.
The clothes nearly touch the ground on that sagging clothesline.
Paint's peeled and screens are torn. I've got so much to do.
But I just want this morning of glory with you.


Sweet Old World by Lucinda Williams

chorus:
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world.
What you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world.

The breath from your own lips; the touch of fingertips;
the sweet and tender kiss.
The song of a midnight train; wearing someone's ring;
someone calling your name.
Somebody so warm, cradled in your arms.
Didn't you think you were worth anything?

chorus

Millions of us in love promises make up;
your own flesh and blood.
Looking for some truth, dancing with no shoes;
the beat, the rhythm, the blues.
The pounding of your heart's strum, together with another one.
Didn't you think anyone loved you?

chorus


Tears That She Cries by Stacey Earle

Oh, girl, well, here you go again.
Today what world are you livin' in?
Does your world just tickle you pink?
Or is it as blue as an ocean, where your little boats sink?
While little Miss Denial is sittin' in high cotton.
All goes well, as long as forgotten.
Go wipe off your walls, then pick up your tin pans
and run to the sink, now, wash off your hands.
Then up on your high horse. Is your ride just too short?
The same little girl wouldn't jump off the front porch.
So afraid we might see eye to eye,
and I'll see that gleam was just tears that she cries.

chorus:
All the tears that she cries, that rain on parades, and trickle on down.
Someone open the gate, til the streets all run dry, and the whole town is saved. While under the ground, to the ocean with rage.
Why, who's making waves? I said "Not I." It's the girl with the gleam in her eyes.

While sleeping beauty gets her sleep tonight,
wake up in the morning and everything is snow white.
Only one thing in her garden will still grow.
My, what could it be? Smells like a rose.
But she will soon snatch it there, straight from its stem.
And a thorn will then prick her, just like a pin.
And as the water fills up her eyes,
she's making up all those tears that she cries.

chorus


Lorraine Lorraine Lorèe by Charles Kingsley

"Are you ready for your steeple-chase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorèe?
You're booked to ride your capping race today at Coulterlee.
You're booked to ride Vindictive, for all the world to see,
To keep him straight, and keep him first, and win the run for me."

She clasped her new-born baby, poor Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorèe.
"I cannot ride Vindictive, as any man might see,
And I will not ride Vindictive, with this baby on my knee;
He's killed a boy, he's killed a man, and why must he kill me?"

"Unless you ride Vindictive, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorèe,
Unless you ride Vindictive today at Coulterlee,
And land him safe across the brook, and win the run for me,
It's you may keep your baby, for you'll get no keep from me."

"That husbands could be cruel," said Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorèe,
"That husbands could be cru - el, I have known for seasons three;
But oh! to ride Vindictive while a baby cries for me,
And be killed across a fence at last for all the world to see!"

She mastered young Vindictive – Oh! the gallant lass was she,
And kept him straight and won the race as near as near could be;
But he killed her at the brook against a pollard willow tree;
Oh! he killed her at the brook, the brute, for all the world to see;

And no one but the baby cried for poor Lorraine, Lorèe.


The Three Fishers by Charles Kingsley

Three fishers went sailing away to the West,
away to the West as the sun went down.
Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,
and the children stood watching them out of the town.
For men must sail and women must weep,
and there's little to earn, and many to keep,
Though the harbour bar may be moaning.

Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower,
and they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down;
They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower,
and the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown.
But men must sail and women must weep,
though storms be sudden, and waters deep,
And the harbour bar be moaning.

Three corpses lay on the shining sands
in the morning gleam as the tide went down,
And the women are weeping and wringing their hands
for those who will never come home to the town.
For men must sail and women must weep,
and the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep;
And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.


Did Jesus have a baby sister?

Did Jesus have a baby sister? Was she bitter? Was she sweet?
Did she wind up in a convent? Did she end up on the street?
On the run? On the stage? Did she dance?
Did he have a sister? A little baby sister?
Did Jesus have a sister? Did they give her a chance?

Did he have a baby sister? Could she speak out, by and large?
Or was she told by Mother Mary, "Ask your brother.
He's in charge. He's the chief. He's the whipped cream on the cake."
Did he have a sister? A little baby sister?
Did Jesus have a sister? Did they give her a break?

B theme:
Her brother's birth announcement was pretty big, pretty big, I guess.
While she got precious little notice in the local press.
Her mother was the Virgin, when she carried him, carried him therein.
If the little girl came later, then was she conceived in sin?
And in sorrow? And in suffering? And in shame?
Did Jesus have a sister? What was her name?

Did she long to be the saviour, saving everyone she met?
And in private, to her mirror, did she whisper, "Saviourette"?
"Saviour woman"? "Saviour person"? Save your breath!
Did he have a sister? A little baby sister?
Did Jesus have a sister? Was she there at his death?

And did she cry for Mary's comfort as she watched him on the cross?
And was Mary too despairing: "Ask your brother. He's the boss.
He's the chief. He's the man. He's the show."
Did he have a sister? A little baby sister?
Did Jesus have a sister? Doesn't anyone know?

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Bonnie Shaljean
Date: 26 May 14 - 04:21 PM

Ballad of Penny Evans

The Sun And The Moon (Whisht ma baby...)

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Joe_F
Date: 26 May 14 - 05:52 PM

Single Girl, Married Girl

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Bonnie Shaljean
Date: 26 May 14 - 06:36 PM

Ahhh [light bulb goes on overhead]: Leon Rosselson's "Don't Get Married, Girls"

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Anne Lister
Date: 26 May 14 - 07:06 PM

Most of my songs ...including "Icarus", for what it's worth. I write very few love songs.

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST,Hilary
Date: 27 May 14 - 08:33 AM

"The Housewife's Lament"
"The Trees they Grow High" (could probably count love as the theme, but I've always thought it was more like arranged marriage)

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: MGM·Lion
Date: 27 May 14 - 08:57 AM

In what way is Strange Fruit a song "sung from a woman's perspective"? The OP wasn't an enquiry for any song ever performed by a woman, SFAICS.

~M~

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST,Hilary
Date: 27 May 14 - 09:11 AM

"Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier"
"Lewiston Factory Girl"

This question really gets me thinking. It's difficult for me to think of non love songs which are obviously from the woman's perspective, whereas I can think of many which seem to be written in a man's voice. For men, there are a lot of broadsides dealing with work, but there really aren't a lot of songs about traditional women's work. Of course, expanding out to non traditional material will probably change this, as previous posters have shown. In this article, the author attempts to form a distinction between male and female singing traditions in maritime Canada at the turn of the century. He touches upon the possibility that men might have been more interested in singing broadsides, and women the older ballads, although, as I write this, I realize this is only a small fraction of the songs which exist. Most Child Ballads are written in 3rd person, without an obvious narrator, hence why it might be easier to find first person songs about men working, but not about women working. It's also likely that women's work was seen as less important and therefore less worthy as a song subject.

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Jack Campin
Date: 27 May 14 - 10:56 AM

there really aren't a lot of songs about traditional women's work

Lullabies don't count? Waulking songs? Spinning and weaving songs? Street cries? Kulnings? First person songs about prostitution?

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Bettynh
Date: 27 May 14 - 10:58 AM

Bread and Roses
God Bless the Child

By Christine Lavin:

Single Voice
Another New York Afternoon (well, she's not in love, though love comes into it)
Mysterious Woman
Strangers Talk to Me
Making Friends With My Grey Hair
Wind Chimes
All You Want is What You Want
Three-Storied Life
The Moment Slipped Away
High Heel Shoes
Prisoners of Their Hairdos

From Malvina Reynolds:

Nancy Newman
No Hole in My Head
Rosie Jane
Rim Of the World
I Cannot Sleep for Thinking of the Children
This World
No Closing Chord
If You Love Me (ok, love comes into this one)

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Bettynh
Date: 27 May 14 - 11:11 AM

I just read the OP again. Irish, hm? That's harder.

Check out I Heard a Woman Singing by Frankie Armstrong.

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Mysha
Date: 27 May 14 - 12:04 PM

Hi,

Non-love woman's perspective. Well, not so much non-love but not on the theme of love, would be the fisherman's wife songs. Ewan MacColl has one, but I'm really thinking of another one that I just can't recall properly. (It's one in which she not just worries about her man each time he is out, but she sees her son is growing up, who wants to be like his da, and she dreads the day when she'll lose him to the fisherman's life.)

There are also some ballads about a relationship between a man and a woman where love does not enter into it, she having been captured by the elfin knight etc.. (Come to think of it: The majority of Scarborough Fair, if sung in full, is from a female point of view, of avoiding the first singer's advances.)

I wonder: In some times/places, it was not considered decent for a wife to speak her mind in public. Under such circumstances, would she have been allowed to sing? If not, different circumstances for her singing might have shaped her repertoire differently.

Bye
                                                                Mysha

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: fat B****rd
Date: 27 May 14 - 03:41 PM

"Millworker"

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST,Hilary
Date: 27 May 14 - 04:20 PM

Jack, I stand corrected. I wasn't thinking about "work songs" specifically, but of course there are plenty of these. However, I draw a distinction between work songs, being those which are meant to accompany work, and those songs which are about work, of I which I know very few from the female perspective.

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: McGrath of Harlow
Date: 27 May 14 - 04:32 PM

If a woman sings any song in one sense that makes it from a woman's perspective.

Even if the song is written as from a man's viewpoint. "Pretty Polly" as song by a woman shows the story from a different angle than when a man sings it.

Goes the other way too. Someone mentioned "Don't get married girls" - and one of the best versions of that was from the Dubliners.

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST,big al whittle
Date: 27 May 14 - 11:43 PM

in a way - love is in the subtext of every song. we can't be any kind of human without love, can we? maybe Ted Bundy....

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Bettynh
Date: 28 May 14 - 10:53 AM

How are we doing? A little feedback from the original poster would go a long way here.

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST
Date: 28 May 14 - 11:34 AM

Thanks very much to everyone who has posted so far.
Keep 'em coming in.

Through my own searching and remembering I've got the songs:

Biddy Mulligan (The Pride of The Coombe)

and, Sweet Daffodil Mulligan......both Dublin songs, Coombe songs.

.......
The Donegal song "Brid Bhán" is about a woman who after getting married has moved to her husbands area but longs to return to her own native Teelin.


I'm still digging

A

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST,mg
Date: 28 May 14 - 01:11 PM

there is a very beautiful one about a mother in the famine who has to leave her daughter's grave..i can't remember it but i think karen matheson sings it on youtube...it is a fairly new song

ten and nine..scotland I think but not sure..

I have some about women who served in VIetnam...

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST,mg
Date: 28 May 14 - 04:03 PM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RomFfK33v3U

here it is..an amazing song

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: Ebbie
Date: 28 May 14 - 04:53 PM

BIRCHES
(Bill Morrissey)

They sat at each end of the couch, watched as the fire burned down,
So quiet on this winter's night, not a house light on for miles around.
Then he said, "I think I'll fill the stove. it's getting time for bed."
She looked up, "I think I'll have some wine. how 'bout you?" She asked and he declined.

"Warren," she said, "maybe just for tonight,
Let's fill the stove with birches and watch as the fire burns bright.
How long has it been? I know it's quite a while.
Pour yourself half a glass. Stay with me a little while."

And Warren, he shook his head, as if she'd made some kind of joke.
"Birches on a winter night? no, we'll fill the stove with oak.
Oak will burn as long and hot as a July afternoon,
And birch will burn itself out by the rising of the moon.

"And you hate a cold house, same as me. Am I right or not?"
"All right, all right, that's true," she said. "It was just a thought,
'Cause," she said, "Warren, you do look tired. Maybe you should go up to bed.
I'll look after the fire tonight." "Oak," he told her. "Oak," she said.

She listened to his footsteps as he climbed up the stairs,
And she pulled a sweater on her, set her wineglass on a chair.
She walked down cellar to the wood box -- it was as cold as an ice chest --
And climbed back up with four logs, each as white as a wedding dress.

And she filled the stove and poured the wine and then she sat down on the floor.
She curled her legs beneath her as the fire sprang to life once more.
And it filled the room with a hungry light and it cracked as it drew air,
And the shadows danced a jittery waltz like no one else was there.

And she stood up in the heat. She twirled around the room.
And the shadows they saw nothing but a young girl on her honeymoon.
And she knew the time it would be short; the fire would start to fade.
She thought of heat. She thought of time. She called it an even trade.

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: GUEST
Date: 29 May 14 - 08:36 AM

The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry?

Subject: RE: 'no love' from a woman's perspective
From: cetmst
Date: 31 May 14 - 06:21 AM

Meyn Ruhe Platz