display | more...

A finely crafted piece of power pop that has the notable disctinction of being considered the best song ever written about dogs nibbling on their deceased owners.

First appearing on his 1977 EP release 'Bowi', (the title of which is a playful wink at David Bowie in answer to Bowie's release entitled 'Low'), Nick Lowe penned this heartfelt, lyrical tribute to tragic silent-era film star Marie Prevost.

Though he misspells her name, and many of the details he mentions about her life are wrong, this song remains a shining testament to Nick's divinely quirky sense of humour and his uncanny ability to cloak dark and cynical subject matter inside irresistably catchy melodies.

And he doesn't get much darker or more toe-tappingly melodic than this:


"Marie Provost" - by Nick Lowe

Marie Provost did not look her best,
The day the cops bust into her lonely nest.
In the cheap hotel up on Hollywood west,
July 29.

She'd been lyin' there for two or three weeks,
The neighbours said they never heard a squeak.
While hungry eyes that could not speak,
Said, 'Even little doggies have got to eat'.

She was a winner that became the doggie's dinner;
She never meant that much to me,
Whoa oh, poor Marie.

Marie Provost was a movie queen,
Mysterious angel of the silent screen,
In 'Run Like The Wind' the nation's young men steamed,
When Marie crossed the silent screen.

Whoa she came out west from New York,
But when the talkies came Marie just couldn't cope.
Her public said 'Marie take a walk
All the way back to New Yawk.'

She was a winner that became the doggie's dinner;
She never meant that much to me,
but now I see, poor Marie.

Those quaalude balms didn't help her sleep,
As her nights grew long and her days grew bleak.
It's all downhill once you've passed your peak;
Marie got ready for that last big sleep.

The cops came in and they looked around,
Throwin' up everywhere over what they found -
The handiwork of Marie's little dachshund,
That hungry little dachshund.

She was a winner that became the doggie's dinner;
She never meant that much to me,
whoa oh, poor Marie

poor Marie
poor Marie...

(Repeat to fade)

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.