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When the only sound in the empty street, Is the heavy tread of the heavy feet
That belong to a lonesome cop I open shop
When the moon so long has been gazing down, On the wayward ways of this wayward town, That her smile becomes a smirk, I go to work
Love for sale, appetizing young love for sale. Love that's fresh and still unspoiled
Love that's only slightly soiled. Love for sale
Who will buy? Who would like to sample my supply?
Who's prepared to pay the price, for a trip to paradise? Love for sale
Let the poets pipe of love in their childish way
I know every type of love better far than they
If you want the thrill of love, I've been through the mill of love
Old love, new love every love but true love
Love for sale, appetizing young love for sale If you want to buy my wares
Follow me and climb the stairs. Love for sale
The world’s oldest profession was not depressed by the Great Depression, although the entertainment industry pretended it didn’t exist. As suggested by Cole Porter, in full Weimar-Republic tuxedo, the wised-up woman of the streets gets to speak for survivors everywhere. A tireless promoter of West Coast culture, Dalannah Gail Bowen here gives a definitive reading, with the rarely heard intro getting a spoken-word treatment over Geoff Hicks’ doubly funky drums.