Tipo de gaita: Diatônica
Tom: C

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

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

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

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You were handsome
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You were pretty
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Queen of New York City
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When the band finished playing
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They howled out for more
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Sinatra was swinging,
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All the drunks they were singing
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We kissed on a  corner
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Then danced through the night
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The boys of the NYPD choir
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Were singing "Galway Bay"
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And the bells were ringing out
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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