A


[Verse 1]
A                              F#m
Joanie was an unmarried girl     just turned twenty-seven
          A                                              F#m
When they sent her to the sisters because of the way men looked at her
D                                 F#m
Branded as a jezebel she knew she was not bound for heaven
             D                      E         A
She had been cast in shame into the Magdalene laundries


[Verse 2]
A                               F#m

Most girls went there pregnant    some by their own fathers
A                                       F#m
  Bridget got her belly from the Parish Priest
                  D                                         F#m
They're trying to get things as white as snow, all of those woe-begotten daughters
       D                      E         A
In the steaming stains of the Magdalene laundries


[Bridge]
D                          F#m
Prostitutes and destitutes    and temptresses like Joanie
D                            F#m
Fallen women sentenced  into dreamless drudgery
D                          F#m
Why do the call this place    Our Lady Of Charity?
D
Of Charity?


[Verse 3]
      A                                       F#m
These bloodless brides of Jesus if they could just once glimpse their groom
       A                                      F#m
They'd drop the stones concealed behind their rosaries
D                                                 F#m
They wilt the grass they walk upon they leech the light out of a room
               D                         E                       A
They'd like to wash those girls down the drains of The Magdalene Launderies


[Outro]
A                                   F#m
Peg O'Connell died today. She was a cheeky girl, they stuffed her in a hole
A                                       F#m
Surely to God you'd think at least some bells should ring
D                                                   F#m
Joanie thinks she'll die there too and that they'll tramp her in the dirt
     D                                             F#m
Like some lame bulb that never will bloom when the springtime comes
         D
When the springtime comes
         F#m
When the springtime comes
         D
When the springtime comes
F#m   D   F#m   D   F#m