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. 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 faggot. Happy Christmas your arse. I pray God it's our last. The boys of the NYPD choir. Still singing "Galway Bay". And the bells were 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. The boys of the NYPD choir. Still singing "Galway Bay". And the bells are ringing out. For Christmas day