Dory Previn Dead

[Patrick]

Dory Previn, the lyricist for three Oscar-nominated songs who as a composer and performer mined her difficult childhood, bouts of mental illness and a very public divorce to create a potent and influential personal songbook, died on Tuesday at her home in Southfield, Mass. She was 86.

Anyone a fan of hers? Can't say I was really. Only connection being that my brother and Mum were into her big time at one point in the early eighties and drove me nuts playing one of her bloody albums on the way to school. If I'd discovered her myself I might have looked more kindly upon her - but as it was it was just another (questionable) bond between big bro and Mum that just was just bloody annoying.

[jean]

I loved her in the 1970s.

Here's the song about Mia Farrow:



Beware
Of young girls
Who come to the door
Wistful and pale
Of twenty and four
Delivering daisies
With delicate hands

Beware
Of young girls
Too often they crave
To cry
At a wedding
And dance
On a grave

She was my friend
My friend
My friend
She was invited to my house
Oh yes
She was
And though she knew
My love was true
And
No ordinary thing
She admired
My wedding ring
She admired
My wedding ring

She was my friend
My friend
My friend
She sent us little silver gifts
Oh yes
She did
Oh what a rare
And happy pair
She
Inevitably said
As she glanced
At my unmade bed
She admired
My unmade bed
My bed

Beware
Of young girls
Who come to the door
Wistful and pale
Of twenty and four
Delivering daisies
With delicate hands
Beware
Of young girls
To often they crave
To cry
At a wedding
And dance
On a grave


She was my friend
My friend
My friend
I thought her motives were sincere
Oh yes
I did
Ah but this lass
It came to pass
Had
A dark and different plan
She admired
My own sweet man
She admired
My own sweet man

We were friends
Oh yes
We were
And she just took him from my life
Oh yes
She did
So young and vain
She brought me pain
But
I'm wise enough to say
She will leave him
One thoughtless day
She'll just leave him
And go away
Oh yes

Beware
Of young girls
Who come to the door
Wistful and pale
Of twenty and four
Delivering daisies
With delicate hands

Beware
Of young girls
To often they crave
To cry
At a wedding
And dance
On a grave

Beware of young girls
Beware of young girls
Beware

[aubrey]

I wouldn't have thought she was 86.