Once upon a midnight beery, while I stressed out, drunk and weary, 

In my one-room flat so dreary, a floor above a liquor store.

As I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As if someone was gently rapping, rapping on my apartment door.

“Some salesman,” I muttered, “knocking on my apartment door—

            Only this, and nothing more.”

I recall the splendor of that snowy cold December 

And distinctly I remember winter shadows on the floor.

I was tired but couldn't sleep, because my brain was deep

In thoughts about the cheating by my lover, Jason Moore—

About that creep who said he wasn't married anymore          

        Lying bastard, Jason Moore.

In the room so dark and gloomy, on the bed where men would do me,

The knocking threw me into terror, like I'd never felt before.

My heart was quaking, hands were shaking.

To still the beating of my heart, I began repeating “'Tis some needy neighbor who knocks upon my apartment door—

Perhaps some man is lonely and wants some comfort only, who knocks upon my  door;—"

        This it is, and nothing more.”

I finally got my courage going, felt my frantic heartbeat slowing.

I grabbed a robe, left nothing showing, and walked across the floor;

"Who is it?" said I, "Who is knocking? Speak up so I can hear you talking."

All was deadly silent, mocking my attempt to know what lay in store. 

Wary of some stranger danger, I turned the lock and slowly cracked the door.

            There stood my mother. What a bore.

Mother entered without speaking while I stood there quietly freaking

Out because she'd never seen me in a place like this before. 

I was shaken and quite fearful, that I was going to get an earful,

Of mother's needs, all my misdeeds, and the kind of clothes I wore.

My life seen through the prism of my mother's criticism. Just like all the times before. 

            So there she was, Whatever for?

With her proud judgmental bearing, she just sat there quiet, glaring,

Causing me to doubt my worth, despairing of all I'd done before.

"Hello dear mother," I finally said (the first thing that came into my head).

"Would you like some jam and bread, or something from the liquor store?

I've got some weed, it's fine indeed, smuggled here from Bangalore.

                Said my mother, "You're a whore."

Mother dear, what are you saying, your statement is to me dismaying.

I thought that you might be paying respect to me instead of it being like before.

I know that with the life I'm living, perhaps I need some small forgiving

But I've made myself a new beginning, I'll do that but nothing more.

Why would you say that awful word, the first thing through my door?

                 Said my mother, "You're a whore."

Perhaps dear mother you are thinking of that time you caught me drinking

And now you find that you are linking me with Tommy Smith, the boy, who lived next door.

It is true I squeezed his penis, but there was nothing ever between us,

We didn't know that you had seen us and what those body parts were for

I wasn't whoring, just exploring, there upon that treehouse floor

           Said my mother, "You're a whore."

I know it wasn't prudent when as a high school student

I let Jack Johnson get me nude and teach me what a cock is for.

But high school life is thorny,I was young and hormone horny,

And now it may sound corny, but I wanted him to love me evermore,

But when he began demanding that we only do it standing, it all became a chore.

        I didn't see him any more.

Or perhaps you are upset by that time I lost that bet

And got my obligation met, by blowing a park ranger in the great outdoor.

I got caught and then arrested, held in that cell bare-breasted

Until I did what they suggested, and sucked their dicks just like I'd done before.

I sucked a bit of wiener, to avoid a misdemeanor, and escaped all charges with knees a wee bit sore.

              Said my mother, "You're a whore."

I admit I was embarrassed when you found me on the terrace

After a threesome, drunk and bare-assed, with Bill and Jeff DeFore,

I was sweaty and denuded and from that you concluded

That I would be deluded to think my reputation wasn't lower than before,

But I learned my lesson, and to you I am confessin', this time it was my pussy that was sore.

             My mom said, "You're a whore."

I know dear mom I crossed the line, that time that we were drinking wine

And Uncle Bill was telling me how fine he found my cute back door.

If I hadn't also smoked that grass, I wouldn't have let him fuck my ass

Because it's painful, kind of crass, and a thing I generally abhor.

And I now know why Aunt Kitty, Bill's wife with the little titties, doesn't really like me anymore

               But Mom that doesn't mean that I'm a whore.

I know there was that one event, when you learned my landlord bent

Me over, and I said it was to pay the rent, but neighbors heard me begging him for more.

It has now been documented, that it could not have been prevented, 

Because the landlord, you see, had become demented, by the miniskirt I wore.

Mental illness was to blame, so I needn't be ashamed, and thus it's all accounted for.

                  Said my mother, "You're a whore."

I cannot say I recall proudly, the time that I was fucking loudly

The rough and rowdy stock boys in the backroom of the Dollar store.

I ended dead-dog tired, them boys they all got fired,

And I learned that although inspired, a girl should never take on more than four.

So let's forget that it occurred, never happened, mum's the word, and we won't think about it any more.

              Said my mother, "You're a whore.".

There was that time that I went swimmin'  with that bunch of drunken women. 

There was my cousin, Kim, and others, naked at the ocean shore.

We did each other with our finga's, and then moved to cunilingus

Moaning, groaning, bangles jingling, all drowned out by the ocean roar. 

Lunch was a bunch of carpet munching, and I ate more than I ever ate before.

           Said my mother, "You're a whore."

Please mom, listen I'm no slut. I seldom take it in the butt.

I don't strip and almost never go to orgies any more.

Lately it has been my fate, to stay at home and masturbate

And my hand's a better date, than most men who've ploughed that ground before

Just smoke a doobie, squeeze my boobie, and extricate my dildo from the drawer.

                Said my mother, "You're a whore."

Mom I know that you took notes when I was young and sowed wild oats

But ours is a relationship that we really could restore.

You are older and you're wiser,  you should be my advisor

I need a clever analyzer, to tell me when to stay and when to hit the door.

You were once young and pretty, and you still have shapely titties, so I know you've walked this path before.

             My mom just said, "You're a whore,"

Okay yes, I've made money selling access to my cunny.

My days have not all been sunny, and times have gotten harder than before.

Right now I'm down to three men, who know I swallow semen,

I make them feel like he-men by offering up my asshole on the floor.

I also have a lover, who sees me under cover, the married piece of shit, Jason Moore.

               Said my mother, "You're a whore,"

Mother, I cried, don't reject me, What I do does not reflect me.

You of all should not dissect me, for I am truly wholesome at my core.

You were not the greatest mother, you left our father for another

And made my brother leave home to join the corps.

And we knew it was invention, when you went to those conventions.

And that Uncle Benson didn't need massages because of wounds received in  war.

We knew what you were doing, that you were skilled at screwing, and secretly were doing much much more.

                Mom I said, "You're the whore."

At the end of my oration, mother said with indignation,

I didn't intend a condemnation, when I said, "You're a whore?"

I probably used the wrong inflection, and sent you in the wrong direction,

So I will make a prompt correction and explain exactly what I came here for.

Daughter deary, it was a query, I need to know if you're a whore.

               Simply that and nothing more.

Since you were a child in Carolina, I've paid my bills with my vagina,

But now I'm kinda old, to be in the business any more.

But I have this one rich client, a kind and gentle giant

Who has never had a compliant, mother-daughter team before.

If you've no opposition to his proposition, we no longer have to be so deadly poor..

             My mother asked, "Are you a whore?"

"I'm a nympho and a whore," I said, "I fuck, I suck, I give great head,

I've spread my legs for a hundred men and will spread for a hundred more.

If your rich guy wants to ream a mother-daughter team

We'll fulfill that dream, and others if he has some more.

Whenever you need a buddy, to team up and get slutty, I'm the daughter you are looking for.

           Mom, let's pair up to whore."

So in that blustery winter weather, mother and I we came together,

Like birds of a feather to challenge what the future held in store.

And shortly we would learn, about the big return,

That a mother-daughter team can earn, when they give a man what he is asking for.

So when you are a dreaming, of a double teaming, we'll come  knocking gladly at your door.

              You see, mom and me are whores.