Fairytale Of New York — Ronan Keating

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 scum bag 
You maggot 
You're cheap