First Prostitute

Really I’m so proud, it’s such a huge honour when your daughter, the apple of your eye, your innocent little baby, makes the big-time and is selected as first prostitute.  I don’t wish to denigrate the other girls, I’m sure they are fine prostitutes too.  But my girl is the first prostitute and in my own vicarious way I can revel in the reflected success.

She is asking my advice, what boots to wear, is this shawl tarty enough?  Imagine, my daughter asking me for fashion advice.  It’s quite a responsibility.

She is also appearing in the chain gang as a prisoner, as a factory girl and she plays the role of the first student who is shot.  Oh, did I neglect to say she is appearing in the school show?  Les Misérables of course!  What must you think of me?  First prostitute indeed!

Here is some sage advice from Noel Coward about a life on the stage:

An Ode to Mid-May


The sun dies slowly on another shimmering day.

The soil pants relief from the parching heat.

From cool resting places the night crawlers appear,

rats, roaches, bats, foxes.

The student also leaves his nest,

of books and notes and weighty thoughts.

He lifts his weary eyes to a cool refreshing breeze,

and sets off for the pub.

Copyright D. Clancy (1987)


Original note from my diary:

The financial proceeds from this poem are to be used to create a grant enabling a worthy impoverished student of an Irish university to afford a pint of beer a day for the college year.