FANCY --by Reba McIntire and a LENTEN REFLECTION

Last Sunday, travelling on NY Rt 42 towards Monticello, NY to say a Mass for Hispanics I heard Reba McIntire's version of "Fancy  that tells of a poor girl from New Orleans whose Mom and little brother are sick and dying.  The Mom, despite her poverty, prepares a beatiful dress for her daughter and implicitly insinuates that she "go where she had to and do what was necessary" to have a better life. It is a powerful song that shows how poverty and desperation and the indifference of others can drive persons to sacrifice their human dignity.  This video by Reba shows a "good end" to a terrible life journey.  I think Lent calls us to help ourselves and, most especially others, out of journeys of pain, aimlessness and self destruction towards journies of HOPE, LOVE, SOLIDARITY AND FAITH IN GOD.  The song was written by Bobbie Gentry in the 60ties.


THESE ARE THE LYRICS..

"Well, I remember it all very well lookin' back

             the summer that I turned eighteen.

We lived in a one-room, run down shack

on the outskirts of New Orleans.

We didn't have money for food or rent

to say the least we was hard-pressed

when Momma spent every last penny we had

to buy me a dancin' dress.

Well, Momma washed and combed and curled my hair,

then she painted my eyes and lips.

Then I stepped into the satin dancin' dress.

It had a split in the side clean up to my hips.

It was red, velvet-trimmed, and it fit me good

and standin' back from the lookin' glass

was a womanwhere a half grown kid had stood.

She said, "Here's your last chance, Fancy, don't let me down!

Here's your last chance, Fancy, don't let me down.

God forgive me for what I do,

but if you want out girl it's up to you.

Now get on out, you better start sleepin' uptown."

Momma dabbed a little bit of perfume

on my neck and she kissed my cheek

Then I saw the tears welling up

in her troubled eyes as she started to speak

She looked at our pitiful shack and then

she looked at me and took a ragged breath

She said, Your Pa's runned off, and I'm real sick

and the baby's gonna starve to death.

She handed me a heart-shaped locket that said

"To thine own self be true"

and I shivered as I watched a roach crawl across

the toe of my high-healed shoe

It sounded like somebody else was talkin'

askin', "Momma what do I do?"

She said, "Just be nice to the gentlemen, Fancy.

They'll be nice to you."

She said, "Here's your last chance, Fancy, don't let me down!

Here's your last chance, Fancy, don't let me down.

God forgive me for what I do,

But if you want out girl it's up to you

Now don't let me down,

now get on out, you better start sleepin' uptown."

That was the last time I saw my momma

when I left that rickety shack

The welfare people came and took the baby.

Momma died and I ain't been back.

But the wheels of fate had started to turn

and for me there was no other way out.

It wasn't very long after that I knew exactly

what my momma was talkin' 'bout.

I knew what I had to do.

Then I made myself this solemn vow:

I's gonna to be a lady someday

though I didn't know when or how.

But I couldn't see spendin' the rest of my life

with my head hung down in shame.

You know I mighta been born just plain white trash.

but Fancy was my name.

She said, "Here's your last chance, Fancy, don't let me down!

Here's your last chance, Fancy, don't let me down.

God forgive me for what I do,

but if you want out girl it's up to you.

Now get on out, you better start sleepin' uptown."

Wasn't long after that a benevolent man

took me in off the streets

One week later I was pourin' his tea

in a five roomed penthouse suite.

Since then I've charmed a king, a congressman

and an occasional aristocrat

and I got me an elegant Georgia mansion

and a New York townhouse flat.

Now I ain't done bad

Now in this world there's a lot of self-righteous

hypocrites who call me bad.

They criticize Momma for turning me out

No matter how little we had.

But I haven't had to worry 'bout nothin'

now for nigh on fifteen years

But I can still hear the desperation

in my poor mommas voice ringin' in my ears.

"Here's your last chance, Fancy, don't let me down!

Oh, here's your last chance, Fancy, don't let me down.

God forgive me for what I do,

but if you want out girl it's up to you.

Now get on out, you better start sleepin' uptown."