A Fairy Tale of New York

A much punkier and lost Irish dream take on Christmas than the Leninist laments we grew up with - from the Pogues from 1987. The title is taken from a novel by Irish author JP Donleavy. The song narrates the story of an Irish couple striving to pursue their dreams in New York. Set on Christmas Eve, the eternal romance and hope of Christmas contrasts with the gritty reality but both are given full whack by the song. 

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"

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

And 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

Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed

You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap, lousy wazzack

Happy Christmas, your arse, I pray God it's our last

And the boys of the NYPD choir, still singing "Galway Bay"

And the bells are ringing out for Christmas Day

"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

And the boys of the NYPD choir, still singing "Galway Bay"

And the bells are ringing out for Christmas Day