Original subtitles

Doc.

- How you feelin'? - Sleepy...

as a man fuckin' should at this hour, if you don't mind me sayin'.

It's this hour I'm able to see to you at.

I understand and I'm grateful.

At least half that fuckin' statement's a fuckin' lie.

Take it easy, Doc.

Try and get dressed today.

Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company.

- What the fuck is that to me? - Telegram for Jane Cannary.

Oh, yeah? Well, here's a pistol for whatever your stupid fuckin' name is.

Please do not kill me. I'm only messenger.

Shut the fuck up and read the message!

Yeah! All right.

How'd Al answer?

- He didn't answer at all. - Good for him.

Mornin'.

Mornin'.

Mornin'. Best time of day to go fuck yourself.

"From Samuel Fields to Miss Jane Cannary."

I don't know any Samuel Fields.

Valediction is "Nigger General."

Gimme that fuckin' thing.

And keep the fuckin' contents to yourself!

Trust, gentlemen and ladies,

we live in faith!

John Langrishe, madam,

wishing you good morning on an august occasion.

- Morning. - Hoping to walk with you a bit

better to represent my intentions this day than the last.

- All right. - May I ask your name?

Joanie Stubbs.

I regret having abrupted upon you, Miss Stubbs, as you gardened.

I took you for interested in something you mightn't have been.

My interest, to be direct,

is in buying your building.

What do you want to use it for?

A theater. My troupe will season in this camp.

It's a schoolhouse now.

Then very handsomely appointed for that purpose.

It was a whorehouse before.

Anyways, I don't know if I'd want to sell.

Perhaps you'd consider renting.

Perhaps you'd consider fucking yourself.

If I was approaching you backwards, Captain, and had a mirror to observe your activity,

just now I'd be most trepidatious,

for, Johnny, this is a man when acting from behind

and advantaged with a weapon is very much to be feared.

I was just doing my job.

You don't want to speak like that again to Mr. Hearst.

Yeah, I do. Do you want to try to change my fuckin' mind?

Not only will I change your mind,

I'll rip your whole fucking head off.

Another fuckin' invite.

Fuckin' Hearst must take me for an optimist.

I'm gonna kill that cocksucker.

All in good time.

I'm curious about those tables with the numbers on them.

Well, they're for gambling on, those.

Various kinds of games of chance or of different sorts.

So I imagined.

I wonder if this might be a convenient time for me to learn?

Leon, uh, take over supervising for me

while I give this young lady some private instruction.

Yes, sir. Supervising now, sir.

Uh, this over here is a choice table.

Horatio, beat it.

Am I inconveniencing you?

Oh... damn Chinks.

They shrunk these pants in the laundry.

You ever throw the bones before, ma'am?

I've caught some.

These are my personal dice.

Nice, uh, fuckin' set.

I'm happy and glad to allow you to learn on 'em.

Damn Chinks.

I should cut your salary 20%!

Uh...

Based on time you're absent campaigning.

Could I make up the hours once I'm beat?

Your plans are idiotic.

You're running for sheriff to be a fireman.

And hope to be second deputy

in case they start a fire department.

Well, that's stupid! And I ought to cut your salary.

You have to, you have to.

Why not build a fuckin' fire wagon

that you then rent out to the camp?

If I had money.

If you had a loan for the wagon's makings

and help with the fuckin' carpentry,

would you build the wagon then?

Uh, I'd repay you at fuckin' interest, boss.

Well, that's the 20%,

pre-deducted from the makings' purchase.

We build the fuckin' wagon

then rent it to the camp.

And don't ever speak of this again.

A-a-a-and two fuckin' fire hats.

Nigger General ain't quit drinkin', we know that for fuckin' sure.

How do we know that?

What you just read to me is a drunkard's question:

"What is state of affairs in camp with regards to the horse?"

Seems to me whatever the state of affairs about the horse is in the camp,

it's a drunkard's decision bringin' the cocksucker back.

That's on Hostetler, according to the little Nigger General,

if you'd understand what you fuckin' read.

Hostetler means to bring the horse back. Hostetler!

"You're right, Jane. I'm a fuckin' moron as usual.

What I should be doin', being as you have no experience,

is helping you compose a telegraph back to little Nigger General as requested."

Come over here and save yourself the cost of a wire.

Oh, fuck!

What are you lookin' at, huh?

You think just 'cause I happen to got a peppermint, it's yours by right?

Always possible I'm having a nightmare.

You greedy sweet-toothed cocksucker.

That's right. That's right.

You come to take my place away.

Oh, Miss Stubbs.

Take a seat in that cell there

till I square a place away for you.

I have an offer to sell my place.

How are you inclined to answer?

Unless you don't yet know, if I ain't out of place askin'.

I told the man to fuck himself.

Tactics or a true position?

I don't know.

I don't know, Mr. Utter.

Why don't I close up for a while?

Oh, please don't.

Nigger General and Hostetler

brung that horse back to camp, got away from 'em

and trampled the sheriff's boy.

Is that so?

Wherever the two of them was,

I guess they didn't feel their lives were in enough danger.

Well, people will do strange things.

For years at a time. Pick any part of my life, for example.

It just don't sit well with me.

To sell your place, you mean?

But I can't think why I wouldn't.

What's wrong with whim for a reason?

I'll tell you what I like.

What I like is knowing these children are learning.

I like that, and I like watering their garden

the days they ain't in session.

The day that school opened I remember sayin' to Sheriff Bullock

what a nice thing it seemed...

watching them little ones walk off to your place.

That's what I goddamn like, imagining them walkin' into it.

I ain't seen it yet, but I'd like to,

and when he wanted to buy it, all I thought's "Now I never will."

Oh God Almighty.

- What is it, Miss Stubbs? - I wish once

I could... care for those little ones.

Just once instead of doin' what I did.

There, there now.

Walked in like the past six weeks never fuckin' happened.

Never fuckin' left the camp!

Never fuckin' abandoned the fuckin' horses to starve,

or die of fuckin' thirst.

Nigger motherfuckers!

Harry, what the fuck are you waitin' for?!

What are you talking about, Steve?

What I swore up and down was gonna happen and nobody paid me any heed.

What happened to me in Utica

and every other fuckin' place I've ever been in my fuckin' life!

The white man bears the nigger's weight

around his neck like a fucking albatross.

And yet people still ask, "Well, why is he bent over?!

And why can he barely fuckin' walk?!"

The livery's gone.

All my labor,

efforts are gone for naught.

And they walked in like they never fucking left,

and they didn't take responsibility

for trampling that white boy!

Nor did they give less than a flyin' fuck!

And I wonder what the fuckin' parents

are gonna say about that too!

Why don't you stand down over there, Harry?

Many thanks.

If you stay in camp long, sir,

you may have the delightful surprise

of meeting your identical twin.

He has appointed to degrade himself.

The open question is with whom.

- Now we'll find out about you. - What is it?

Or justice for the white man or for your own dead child.

At the saloon No. fucking 10!

- Well, are you coming? - Yeah, I'm fucking coming.

Mrs. Ellsworth.

You don't confuse me with Mrs. Bullock?

Well, as far as the conjugal enterprise,

I'll admit often feeling like a schoolboy.

Thank you for it.

Speaking further, 'twixt your mine and now this bank,

however much I mayn't be good at it, I feel I married rather well.

Want my money, it better be available,

day or fucking night.

Mayn't I draw you a map then in case it's night you want it,

to lead you to where I live so you can wake me?

Now fuck you then.

- I ain't depositing. - Oh no.

Oh, say it ain't fuckin' so, you stupid fucking asshole!

Now now now now.

Now now, fucking what?!

Now now, keep your voice down.

- Who the fuck are you anyway? - Sir...

Stay out of this.

Deposits here, if we fucking let you make 'em,

are backed by this lady's gold mine.

So do not confuse her with some paper palace fly-by-night

who means "Catch me if you can, turn me upside down

and whatever falls out of my pants pocket is what's behind my scrip,"

when his note says "full faith and credit."

Thank you, Mr. Ellsworth.

She'd make the uses of money available

for people in the camp ain't belligerent cocksuckers.

Short of following you around with her fucking mine on her back,

- how else is she supposed to do it? - Thank you.

- You're welcome. - I am Mrs. Ellsworth.

Yeah. How do you do?

I...

I guess I'll try you out.

Our hearts fucking leap with joy.

Keep him here.

Now we'll see if he takes the nigger's word or how they fucking lie.

Shut up!

Well, give me a drink and it's a deal, Tom.

Go on away from here now. Ain't nobody trying to keep you.

That's why I come back with you, Hostetler, to worsen my chances when I try to flee.

I was coming to find you once I had the horse cleaned.

This is the horse that hurt your boy.

We collected him and we brung him back.

He died.

The horse escaped in my care,

you may hold the boy's dying against me.

Hostetler took precautions. We was trying to nut the horse...

Shut... shut up now. Shut up.

I collected the horse and brought him back.

I'm back too.

You say what you think is right.

I'm not gonna act against you for an accident.

Your boy...

I'm as sorry as I can be.

I hope you will take that to his mother for me.

I'm here to talk about the livery.

I feel sorry running away from this too.

It's a shame leaving animals uncared for.

Wanting not to be killed will put you to some difficult choices.

Steve's been looking after the place.

Did damn good at the first look.

Any chance to keep hell from breaking loose between you?

He left out of here shouting and screaming

off of me saying thanks for looking out.

I'm asking, Hostetler, far as you go,

does hell have to break loose?

No, hell don't have to break loose.

A colleague of mine Leon,

out of the Bella Union... you might not have noticed him...

Leon remarks to me after you left

"That young lady had a front porch on her

a fella could read a book off of."

You know Leon said that unsolicited.

It's time to go.

In a few days

we can do this again.

Uh, Captain will be back at the helm!

Mr. Langrishe,

I couldn't possibly consider your offer

unless you would agree

to building a new schoolhouse

at your expense for Mrs. Bullock and the children.

Well, who could say no to that?

Well, what... what if Mrs. Bullock doesn't want a change of location?

I can't think of why she'd prefer teaching

in an ex-brothel over a place new-built for schooling.

People are strange about things, Charlie.

But if you like, I'll get her say-so.

And then I'll speak to Mr. Langrishe.

Why don't we talk at the hardware store?

Why don't we talk right here?

A 30-minute recess, boys. - No recess on my account.

I don't want my getting fucked to put others to inconvenience.

No one's here to fuck you, Steve, if you'd just quit running your mouth.

First off, I thank you for looking to the livery.

He'll talk to me through you or he won't get any fucking response.

I'm grateful for the care you gave the animals.

Now you wait until he translates from ape.

Don't insult him again.

You being this kind of neutral sheriff

is why I'm gonna vote for Harry Manning.

I want to pay you for your time and your trouble.

That's it? Send me on my fucking way?

And if you wanted to work there,

I would be willing to keep you on.

Look at him, gritting his teeth,

holding onto his fucking nose!

Don't you do me any fucking favors, Hostetler!

I didn't ask permission of anyone to look after that stock,

and I'm not gonna start with a fucking nigger!

The sheriff will have your back pay if you come to change your mind.

Fuck you!

I was answerable to the horse that trampled his boy.

Camp being stirred up,

if I lingered to make my arrangements

I don't think I would have lived to catch that horse.

Ain't that the purest form of nigger logic?

He runs and he blames the white man

and then he comes back

and he treats him like dirt!

Hey, when can I start working for you, you fucking monkey ape?!

Why don't you start jumping up and down

and pounding your chest

and murder a few dozen lice?!

You motherfucker.

- What did you say about my mother?! - You motherfuckers.

- What did you just say about these people! - You ofay motherfuckers!

Put me down until you're ready to kill me or run.

You're gonna leave this to me.

Do you understand? You leave it to me.

I came my part and he wouldn't meet me.

I'll take care of it. Will you let me try?

- It's what I want for my son. - Put me down now.

If I do, it won't be to kill you and I'm not running.

So what are we gonna do then?

Put me down.

I was gonna go to Oregon.

You let him buy me out fair and I'll fucking go.

I'll be at the livery.

He'll sell to you. Do you want to take it on?

I don't have the means to purchase it.

If you had the means at loan?

Yes, I'd be willing, very much so.

No bargain. My partner would make the price.

You'd say yes or no.

Yeah, I'm interested, if I had the means at loan.

What do you think of that?

Sheriff Bullock.

Trying to broker some settlement between Steve and Hostetler.

Well, I'll find you later then.

Be quick, you got me now.

Must've been unwelcome to Mrs. Bullock, that horse being brought back.

Not wanting to intrude on her,

Miss Stubbs having asked me to find out,

might I ask you to speak in her stead

as to something I believe we both know where she stand on?

Is that your goddamn idea of quick, Charlie?

Miss Stubbs,

that owns the Chez Amis building where Mrs. Bullock teaches,

has got asked to name a price which she'd sell at.

She got stipulations and likes of which I won't bore you with,

but her big worry,

if the buyer on his own nickel

were to put a new schoolhouse up elsewhere,

would Mrs. Bullock be loathe to leave the Chez?

Why would she be loathe to leave it?

Can I take that as a no as if from your wife's own lips?

Yeah.

Thank you.

Sorry to hold you up.

"Be quick."

Fucking delicate operation.

Jack.

One thought he'd engaged a room for you

at the other end of the hall.

I'm going to it now.

Invites me and Tolliver for a chat.

What the fuck is in his head? Does he think he broke me?

Does this cocksucker think he broke me and now we're at his beck and call?

Oh, Jesus Christ, get your head off it.

Get your fucking head off it for all the fucking good you're doing down there.

At the perfect juncture

you to alter your action and forget your previous method.

I didn't alter my action.

No?

Is my dick in your mouth?

Do I have a hard-on? Then you change your action.

Go back to your previous fucking method.

Hmm.

Does he construe my forbearance as weakness

is what the fuck nags at me?

Or my considerations of alternatives

for being fucking intimidated?

Because the time's coming he sees what I'm up to

beyond any fucking mistake.

And I only hope you don't doubt it.

Huh, you see?!

Y-y-y-you don't think that counts as altering your action?

You would change your entire fucking mouth pattern.

Sorry.

Sorry? Oh, I guess that's okay then...

because my goal before my meeting

wasn't to come and clear my fucking head,

not so much as to hear you say you're sorry,

you stupid fucking mutt.

- Should I go? - No.

Tell me who you want in the election.

Star for mayor and Harry Manning for sheriff.

Star for mayor and Bullock for fucking sheriff.

Bullock yells at you.

Get out.

Shut up and get out.

Does he think I'm fucking afraid?

- Young man. - Jack.

Less throb today, one hopes, in the phantom digit.

Not to fucking mention elsewhere, huh?

Might I ask you what you know of a Miss Stubbs that owns the Chez Amis?

- Whoremistress. - Not presently active, I'm told.

Hearst's geologist killed three of her girls.

The three he didn't, she hid under canvas and spirited out of camp.

Now lets her place as a schoolhouse.

My impression, she donates it.

To cleanse the camp's idea of her?

Would that base her turning away a theater type's offer to buy?

Wouldn't enter into it. Cares for a gut-shot shitbird

no one in camp has time for, nor she has any love for either.

Loyal, see? That type.

Some sentimentality, do you suppose, about the building itself?

Might that account for her holding on?

I wouldn't know, Jack. She's all right.

Must think I'm a fucking dog...

forgives the blow first friendly scratch of the ear.

Invites me back to his rooms, fucking Hearst.

Shall I accompany? As your second.

My obvious unsuitability might confuse him.

Do survive.

EB.

The Titans gather.

- Swearengen. - Tolliver.

Do we now assault Olympus?

Quiet, EB.

I think Cochran's a lunger.

A bit motley ourselves, huh?

What would you make that livery worth?

- I'd have to look into it. - I need a figure now.

1200 if you made me say without investigating.

Laying by for the future.

- Very forward looking. - Oh, I'm keen-eyed,

ahead and behind.

Your mark would go there.

I'll sign my name, Mrs. Garret.

I've been lettered since I was 12.

Since you can read, you may wish to examine my nameplate.

Mrs. Ellsworth, I'm... I'm very sorry

and very very apologetic.

Perhaps you would finish signing over there while I attend to Mr. Bullock.

Opened an account.

- Mr. Bullock. - I'd like that drunk Steve to have a loan...

$1200, title to the livery as collateral. I'll cosign the note.

Has Steve clear title?

He will once he's bought out Hostetler.

That's what the money's for.

- What is Steve-the-drunk's surname? - Fields.

$1200, Trixie,

payable to a Mr. Steve Fields

upon his signature and submission of title to the livery,

Mr. Bullock to cosign.

All right.

Thank you.

My back's in frank rebellion.

Uh, gentlemen, will you mind if I keep to this angle?

Hang upside down from the ceiling for all of me.

It may come to that.

Mr. Swearengen, I will take your silence for assent.

We pass another milestone.

Bank of Deadwood opens its doors.

Is not Mrs. Ellsworth a dynamo?

Let's find one and send it to her.

What's the occasion? I have my physician to see.

How are you indisposed, Mr. Swearengen?

Sick at the stomach.

Would you wish to leave now?

Mr. Tolliver can report our conversation.

Tough it out, Al, like me

that's guts is more outside his pants than in.

The occasion?

The camp comes to such an hour,

I'd have us reach a new understanding.

- The "hour" meaning elections. - I am given pause

by the quality of...

certain of the likely victors.

But I have come to believe as well

that my temperament ill suits me

for environments such as this one must become.

And other opportunities presenting themselves elsewhere,

I may best serve my own interests here

- by standing at some remove. - Are you leaving?

Can you say it straight out before I have a fucking birthday?

I will be coming and going, is that straight out enough?

What's the task you'd give us? And what's our fucking piece for doing 'em?

- Al. - Shut up.

To not let become over-onerous

my interests' encounter with the camp's retrogressive elements.

Meaning what, you phony bastard?

- Who do we kill? What's our pay? - It ain't fair to make it that simple, Al.

Fuck you. He took the pick to me simple enough.

We will get to numbers quickly once we've agreed in principle.

Numbers are the only principle I believe in,

and naming what the numbers buy.

When you and him come to 'em,

tell fucking Adams and he'll bring you my reply later.

Him and me, we've had our last word.

What have the gods decreed?

Too fearful and upset to relive it, EB.

We do agree in principle?

Oh, yes, sir. Numbers and acts

is what's left to discuss. Sounds like a Bible study, don't it?

Charlie read me the telegram, then I seen 'em come into camp.

My exact fucking thought, "Look, Jane,

two dead niggers leading a dead fucking horse."

Matter came to rope, Steve the drunk to cinch the noose.

Charlie's right for the first time in months.

Fucking Steve.

The exact type malicious cocksucker

tars every fucking drunk with his brush.

Anyway, here's Trixie with the loan documents.

This succeeds, Bullock, what you're trying to work out here,

I will doff hat to you and no fucking mistake.

Just don't let her take off her boots.

Did you know Miss Stubbs might sell her place?

You gotta fucking sign.

A lot of shitbags hang around a bank.

Did you ever fucking notice?

Asshole.

Trailing clouds of glory.

Do you read Wordsworth?

I do not, madam, no.

How do you come to ask?

You've just quoted him.

Well, I have a digest from which I memorize,

suppressing the authors' names. Enjoy your supper.

When will I raise courage

to search that woman's room?

- Thank you. - My pleasure.

Don't look to take her order.

She likes to draw awhile before she eats.

"Bone weary but soldiering on."

Bellegarde as a soldier?

He is an actor, after all.

But unless you would build a new schoolhouse

for Mrs. Bullock to teach the camp's children in,

I couldn't even begin to entertain the idea of a sale.

The most natural and constructive of stipulations, Miss Stubbs.

- At your expense, I hope you understand. - I do.

And may I submit to you now my offer?

Please do.

Very generous. Thank you.

We've an agreement?

Far as the schoolhouse...

and its costs?

Absolutely separate, my obligation in that regard.

- Those'd be exclusive. - Exactly.

They come to an understanding.

She seems quite thin.

Might be where he first went wrong,

learning to read and cipher.

- Why ain't he sign first? - Why ain't I half a foot taller?

- You're who I came to first. - Order's right and amount is fair.

And once Steve signs, then I will.

I'm not a goddamn errand boy, Hostetler,

to mule this thing back and forth.

Give it to me. Let me forge Steve's name.

I ain't gonna be first to sign

and look a cunt when he don't.

Nigger, nigger, nigger.

Where the fuck have you been?

I was looking for someone whose name you told me never to say again.

Amongst further instructions including

not to look for him when he's fucking disappeared.

- Well, I held off saying where I was. - I can repose no truth in someone

- who traffics with that type douche bag. - I don't think Hawkeye's a douche bag.

Who you believe you can salvage, Adams, is the douche bag you must avoid,

and no effort of yours can preclude at some point finding past help.

And you yourself, being his consort, in similar fucking straits.

And all the energies I've poured into you gone for naught.

I vow on the fucking subject, I find you dead 'cause of him

I'll kick your corpse in the ear for the waste of my fucking time.

Anyways, what'd you want?

I've named you to represent me in my dealings with fucking Hearst.

- Tolliver too, in that connection. - With Tolliver in connection with Hearst?

As he's put us in tandem, fucking Hearst.

- You and Tolliver? - If I sought an echo, Adams,

I'd now be addressing a fucking mountain.

I'm in waters I don't know,

nor soundings I can take. To bring me the knowledge I need,

my second needs to seem capable of disloyalty.

If that's supposed to be a compliment, thanks.

Get the fuck out. Out out. Go. Get out.

Which is to say, being loyal he can forego loyalty's display.

Like not searching out a friend who don't want to be found,

just hoping he makes his way back, hmm?

How's Dan gonna take your choosing me?

That's my fucking problem to deal with.

Jack, how'd it go with that place?

One has agreed beyond purchase

to construct a new schoolhouse elsewhere.

That should go up prior, not to interrupt the fucking teacher.

Your law-giving tone is noted.

Lovely smile.

She sucks my prick.

Her methods deserted her completely.

Might varying

the hour produce a different outcome?

What's the hour's relevance? It's her technique's fucking awry.

Anyway, Jack, gotta get my ear pissed in. I'm glad about your place.

Thank you, young man. Glad you're still amongst us.

Nor, one imagines,

is the local creek rife with oysters.

I'm on board, Bullock.

And you are looking at a grateful man,

and who ain't appreciated you previous

- the way he does now. - Sign.

We've accomplished something here today!

Take this agreement and this pen,

go over to that livery

and get that nigger's signature.

I will. Sign the fucking thing first.

Let's not lose our sense of proportion

this late phase in the process.

Sign it!

That nigger signs and then I'll accept.

You know you hurt my feelings.

- Dan. - That's the long and short of it, Al.

You fucking pick Adams to represent you,

you hurt my fucking feelings and that is the fucking matter's end.

Would you go against me?

That is not what we're talking about.

You know I'd never break loyalty.

That don't mean my feelings can't get hurt.

Fucking point is you'd never go against me. Tolliver knows.

I need someone he don't know that about.

I don't think Silas would go agin you neither.

You and him haven't been through,

me and him haven't been through what me and you've been through.

Hmm. Not by a long shot.

So more than an opinion ain't possible.

Still, I'd be fucking surprised if either of us was mistaken.

Me too.

Fucking Doc.

- What's his problem? - Think he's a fucking lunger.

Jesus Christ, it is

one fucking thing after another.

Observe a decent interval,

and we'll give it another fucking whirl.

Keep them separate,

agree on a time tomorrow when their dicks will be down,

have them sign simultaneous.

Petite and quite beautiful your mother is,

for being a financial powerhouse.

Of service to the camp, turning her mine into houses

and the like getting built, businesses begun.

Some for people that'll never know her name.

I'll take the air, just briefly.

I'll continue to be beaten at checkers.

Any fucking domicile but the graveyard suits me fine.

Don't you worry about me.

I got things taken care of over here.

I don't know either.

But I do know

that you're welcome wherever I go.

Is Mose invited to the new destination?

Because I'd think you'd need to widen some doorways if he is.

Haven't talked to Mose about it.

He can be the watchman then.

I have no issue with that.

We'll figure the rest out...

when time comes.

Where would the stage be?

- I don't know. - Yeah, I don't know either.

Ain't our line, I guess.

That they agreed tonight is no guarantee

what they'll do at 10:00 in the morning.

Please see that no harm comes to that horse.

I will.

Then after the watches were synchronized,

another hour studying them like idiots

to see if one gained on the other.

Sol.

It's not the fucking hour.

It's not fucking vantage of the chair.

It's you that's changed the level of your suction somehow.

That's the fucking sum and substance of it.

Maybe if I get up on my knees?

You're the cocksucker. Change your fucking angle.

Hey, Jesus Christ, you'll turn me inside out.

Come on.

Advice from third fucking parties...

place a table on the boardwalk,

people can jot their suggestions,

roll in the muck of the thoroughfare

in gales of fucking laughter.

I did not shame myself.

I keep an open mind in that area.

Kid yourself about your behavior, you'll never learn a fucking thing.

I knew what was coming too.

Fucking captain, holding me down.

I knew what the fuck was next.

When he chopped off your finger?

He didn't chop off my finger.

Hearst chopped my fucking finger off!

The other fuck held me down.

They hold you down, you-you can't get at them

to help yourself.

Fucking cold in here anyway, isn't it?

- You want a blanket? - If I do, I'll put it round me.

You ain't boss of the fucking bedclothes.

They hold you down from behind,

then you wonder why you're helpless.

How the fuck could you not be?!

I don't like it either.

Another one that held me down,

that fucking' proctor when I tried to get to that ship.

He fucking held me, fucking wouldn't let me go.

Fucking my mind, you see? She was being restrained.

Couldn't get back off that had got on the boat to New Orleans

to go suck prick in Georgia. She changed her mind and...

and I was being restrained by that fat bastard orphanage proctor.

Anyway, that's it. That's the end of it.

That's the fucking conclusion.

Christ, I'd have wished to...

Though probably she'd have thrown me overboard anyway,

but I'd have wished to get to that fucking ship.

But I was being restrained.

I couldn't get from where she'd left me.

He held me to that bed,

her calling from the ship that had changed her mind.

I don't like it either.

No, huh?

What?

When they hold you down.

I guess I do that, huh, with your fucking hair?

No.

No?

Well, bless you for a fucking fibber.

♪ Well, there's lots of mean women ♪

♪ On almost any street ♪

♪ Lots of mean women ♪

♪ On almost any street ♪

♪ Lots of mean women ♪

♪ On almost any street ♪

♪ But I got the meanest mama ever walked on two feet ♪

♪ Well, if I was a steamship sailing on the deep blue sea ♪

♪ If I was a steamship ♪

♪ Sailing on the deep blue sea ♪

♪ I'd drown all you women if you tried to ride on me. ♪