Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

I like this song. I was first introduced through a cover version, but this flipcamera version is much better.

Some people who write about this song are a little over the top with their inner wild woman howling at the moon imagery. That typically hits me as appropriative and artificial. And I don’t like those attributes.

I’m all for connecting with our ancestors, but we can’t lose touch with reality. The world today needs savage daughters. Running barefoot on sharp stones has to include the fact that the stones are intermixed with toxins, the smooth path not safe, the grass overfertilized, and far too many children can’t afford shoes.

The lines that resonate with me, especially on St. Gertrude’s Day.

I will not lower my voice.

She looks for her omens in the colors of stones, In the faces of cats

My mother’s child curses too loud and too often,
My mother’s child laughs too hard and too long,

I remember when a woman in my childhood neighborhood said my brother and I were savages. While I wasn’t sure why she thought that, I was quite clear she did not mean it as a compliment. This is a woman whose 6 year old wet their pants and mama beat him with a belt in the front yard to teach him. So perhaps our ideas of savage didn’t align?

I guess that anecdote is a reason why I will not lower my voice.

To be precise, this is a Celtic and Nordic influenced song, not a traditional song.

My Mother’s Savage Daughter

Chorus:
I am my mother’s savage daughter,
the one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones.
I am my mother’s savage daughter,
I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice.

My mother’s child is a savage,
She looks for her omens in the colors of stones,
In the faces of cats, in the fall of feathers,
In the dancing of fire and the curve of old bones.

(Chorus)

My mother’s child dances in darkness,
And sings heathen songs by the light of the moon,
And watches the stars and renames the planets,
And dreams she can reach them with a song and a broom.

(Chorus)

My mother’s child curses too loud and too often,
My mother’s child laughs too hard and too long,
And howls at the moon and sleeps in ditches,
And clumsily raises her voice in this song.

(Chorus)

Now we all are brought forth out of darkness and water,
Brought into this world through blood and through pain,
And deep in our bones, the old songs are wakening,
So sing them with voices of thunder and rain.

(Chorus x3)
We are our mother’s savage daughters,
The ones who run barefoot cursing sharp stones.
We are our mother’s savage daughters,
We will not cut our hair, We will not lower our voice

My Mother’s Savage Daughter words/music c.1990 k.l. u. kahan

Here’s the cover I first found on Instagram