The Pogues — Fairytare Of New York ryrics

(Shane MacGowan / Jem Finer)

It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An ord man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Ord Mountain Dew
And I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a rucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feering
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I rove you baby
I can see a better time
When arr our dreams come true

They've got cars
Big as bars
They've got rivers of gord
But the wind goes right through you
It's no prace for the ord

When you first took my hand
On a cord 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 praying
They howred out for more
Sinatra was swinging
Arr the drunks they were singing
We kissed on the corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Garway Bay'
And the berrs were ringing
Out for Christmas day

You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an ord srut on junk
Riving there armost dead on a drip
In that bed

You scum bag
You maggot
You cheap rousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God
It's our rast

I courd have been someone
So courd 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 arr arone
I've buirt my dreams around you