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2001-11-30 - 9:14 p.m.

This one is for Nick, just because:

It was Christmas Eve, babe,
In the drunk tank.
An old man said to me,
'Won't see another one.'
And then he sang a song,
'That Rare Old Mountain Dew.'
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you.
Got on a lucky one.
Came in eighteen to one.
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you.
So Happy Christmas.
I love you, baby.
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true.

They've got cars big as bars;
They've got rivers of gold.
But the wind goes right through you;
It's no place for the old.
When you first took my hand,
On a cold Christmas Eve,
You promised me Broadway was waiting for me.

You were handsome--

You were pretty,
Queen of New York City.

When the band finished playing,
They howled out for more.
Sinatra was swinging.
All the drunks, they were singing.
We kissed on a corner,
Then danced through the night.

The boys of the N.Y.P.D. Choir were singing 'Galway Bay.'
And the bells were ringing out for Christmas Day.

You're a bum, you're a punk.

You're an old slut on junk,
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed.

You scumbag, you maggot,
You cheap, lousy faggot.
Happy Christmas, your arse,
I pray God it's our last.

I could have been someone...

Well, so could anyone.
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you.

I kept them with me, babe.
I put them with my own.
Can't make it all alone,
I've built my dreams around you.

The boys of the N.Y.P.D. Choir were singing 'Galway Bay.'
And the bells were ringing out for Christmas Day.

--"Fairytale of New York" by the Pogues

TRQ

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