If BOF had an awards show, this little sucker would get the Lifetime Acheivement Award. SHANTY TRAMP has done nothing but give, give, give for now on 34 years.

This downright smarmy b&w exploitation classic from Fireball Jungle Director Jose' Prieto stars Bill Rogers (from the H.G. Lewis camp, he was in A Taste of Blood) as Brother Fallow. The Bro. is a revival tent preacher man with a stiffy for the local gals and for the green in the collection basket. During one of the Revs. marathon preach-fests an over-dressed but undercovered young girl named Emily Striker (Lee Holland) comes a sauntering into his tent. It is not hard to figure out she has a rep, when a black woman tells her son Daniel to "stop staring at that shanty tramp!" and pulls him by the ear up out of there. He's got Shanty Tramp fever. Shockingly she gets the Right Reverand's attention, and arranges to meet him in his trailer.

So in the first 7-8 minutes of this film, we gots us some wanton hussy action, some leacherous Tool of Gawd stuff, a possible black/white thing a brewing. Oh man, this is the stuff movie viewing dreams are a made of. You can smell the Shanty Tramp a spoiling.

Shanty Tramp struts, stops to ponder her strutting, slinks, stops to think of slinking and finally runs into her father, a drunken sharecropper (whose lines might warrant a rewind or two, cuz I believe he might actually be drunk) and tells him to drop dead. The fiery vixen hops into a juke joint and comes on to a guy, he askes her to dance within 10 seconds and our lady gives it the "Swing it, man!" The Shanty Tramp is no Ginger Rogers and come to think of it, she ain't too easy on the eyes either but hey, she's a Tramp and I love her. All I know is boys and girls, they sure don't make make 'em like this and I am telling you here and now, I love James Dean and Marlon Brando and all that old Hollyweird bullshit, but I'll take ol' Shanty Tramp over East of Eden or Street Car any day to feed my jones for old school filmary.

From here, we got bikers, attempted rape, interracial loving, moonshining, car theft, implied incest, preaching, lusting, bad sheriffing and killing...sssheeeww and this thing clocks in at about 71 minutes.

There is nothing you won't like about Shanty Tramp except maybe The Shanty Tramp herself, but if you were hangin' around in this shanty town you'd be up on her like a half-price carnival ride. What I am telling you to do? See it! And if anyone has the soundtrack out there to this baby, please email me now. Yowsa, listen up, SHANTY GALLDANG TRAMP...watch it!

"That ain't my belly button..." "Well, ma'am that ain't my finger neither."

Here is the super tuff "gang" please note that mean sweater