Chains, my baby's got me locked up in chains
And they ain't the kind that you can see
Woh these chains of love got a hold on me yeah
Chains, well I can't break away from these chains
Can't run around 'cause I'm not free
Woh these chains of love won't let me be
Now believe me when I tell you
I think you're fine, I'd like to hold you
But I can't break away from all of these chains
My baby's got me locked up in chains
And they ain't the kind that you can see
Woh these chains of love got a hold on me yeah
I wanna tell you pretty baby
Your lips look sweet, I'd like to kiss them
But I can't break away from all these chains
My baby's got me locked up in chains
And they ain't the kind that you can see
Woh these chains of love got a hold on me yeah
My baby's got me locked up in chains
And they ain't the kind that you can see
Woh these chains of love got a hold on me yeah
Chains
Chains of love
Chains of love
Oh these chains of love gotta hold on me
“No Jimmy, no I can’t go out with you tonight, I have to study for tomorrow’s biology exam ,“ protested Lorraine, Lorraine Dubois, Jimmy LaCroix’s , one and only, his ball and chain, his, well, sweetie, the one that he gave his ever-loving’ class ring to. His gave that valued, girl-valued if not pawnbroker- valued, class ring the night that Lorraine and he had first gone down to watch the “submarine races” off of Olde Saco Beach (Maine), or rather down at the Seal Rock lovers’ lane end. Seal Rock where rumor, long-time rumor had it going back a couple of generations, that that locale was where many knots were tied (sex, for the clueless, the 1960 clueless, the 1960 non-Olde Saco clueless) and sealed their love, or at least did the deed, get it, by placing the assignation parties’ initials on that rock on their, ah, first assignation. Of course , only after having watched those mythical nighttime submarine races deep in the back seat of some father-borrowed (meaning some tail-fin Plymouth, strictly for universal square parents, and, and serviceable for the “races,”) or better, some father- bought, reflecting good times, souped-up two-toned ’57 Chevy and thus chisel-worthy. (Jimmy had borrowed his older brother Jeanbon’s, called Jack except at mother/grandmother home, Dodge in exchange for a full wax job on the car. Cheap at any price after the fact Jimmy thought, Jimmy Lorraine fulfilled thought.
Jimmy this night though protested to her that he had not seen his sweet Lorraine for five whole days since he had been ill and therefore indisposed. Jimmy tried every trick in the book, including the old dodge of studying together at her house (more specifically in the basement family room) but nothing worked, nothing that night. Or for that matter the next several nights. Jimmy was beside himself. And one did not have to be a high-priced psychiatrist or a sociology professor at some elite university to know that Jimmy had the “itch,” the submarine races itch. But beyond that his, if you could believe Jimmy’s corner boy talk, or more importantly, his Olde Saco High Monday morning before school boys’ “lav” weekend lie-fest confession of love for one Lorraine Dubois (to clearly stake out his“territory” for anyone within earshot who might have Lorraine, fetching Lorraine Dubois thoughts, on their mind).
See before Lorraine Jimmy was strictly what his corner boys called a “love ‘em and leave 'em kind of guy.” (Said corner boys holding forth over at Mama’s Pizza Parlor, the one on Main Street with the jukebox and kind of reserved after school and on weekends for Olde Saco teen-agers. Others could go there at their peril during those hours and were kindly advised to go to Mama’s on Atlantic Avenue that was kind of set aside for families and others in no particular need of jukeboxes, lively girl and boy watching, or stuff that might other cause too much excitement contrary to doctor’s orders.)
Such guys, such callow youth, existed even in the very attached by sixteen (and therefore theoretically for life), married by eighteen, two bratty kids by twenty world of the old French–Canadian quarters in Olde Saco (the local F-Cs called it the Acre, as in God’s Little Acre, the actual residents, at least some, called it Hell’s Acre). Jimmy, having seen that unchanging cycle in his downhill parents, his older brother Jean, his older sister Lara, and about twelve hundred other Acre families wanted none of that. No way. Not for him.
Until Lorraine. Until not so sweet Lorraine that is. She threw Jimmy for a loop and had him running through hoops from the first time he eyed her in tenth grade homeroom over at Olde Saco High. And after almost two years he finally got her to the races. (Little did Jimmy know, know then anyway, that he could have successfully made his move much earlier if he hadn’t been so single-minded in trying to get her to the Seal Rock traditional mating ground. At least according to his corner boy, Ray Bleu, or rather Ray’s sister who heard that pronouncement from Lorraine at one Monday morning before school girls’ “lav” weekend doings lie-fest.)
So Jimmy surrendered, surrendered that night without a fight, because after all what is a guy going to do when a frill (local Acre guy talk for a girl, woman in those days) has a guy all balled- up and calling her every night just to hear the sound of her voice. So every one of those nights after Lorraine gave Jimmy her nightly excuse for the day Jimmy went to his room, threw his younger brother, Raymond out, closed and locked the door and played Chainsby The Cookies a few times and fell asleep. Raymond knew enough not to knock and so he spent more than one night sleeping on the downstairs sofa.
P.S. Jimmy and Lorraine were married, married over at Saint Brigitte’s (just like their parents and grandparents) at eighteen (just graduated and she three months pregnant for the curious, from Seal Rock submarine race initialed-love adventures or elsewhere was not entirely clear. Entirely clear is that Jimmy got his “itch” problem with Lorraine worked out ), had two so-so bratty kids by twenty and the last I heard were still “chained” together forty years later. Go figure.
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