... Shane MacGowans bittersweet uppgörelse med fattiga irländska invandrares kraschade drömmar i det stora landet västerut, är vald till Årets julsång...

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 

The Rare Old Mountain Dew 

And 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 the corner 

Then danced through the night 

The boys of the NYPD 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 

Living there almost dead on a drip 

In that bed 

You scum bag 

You maggot 

You cheap lousy faggot 

Happy Christmas your arse 

I pray God 

It's our last 

I could have been someone 

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 

 

Anita Wh

17 december 2010 17:13

Ahh, vilka ord.!!
Så tragiskt att många av dessa "över" intelligenta människor går ner sig och blir så deprimerade. Allt han skrivit är ju igentligen bara färgen svart

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