The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl: Fairytale of New York
GLI EXTRA DELLE CCG / AWS EXTRAS / LES EXTRAS DES CCG| Original | Versione in in gaelico irlandese |
| THE POGUES & KIRSTY MACCOLL: FAIRYTALE OF NEW YORK 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 Were 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 Were singing "Galway Bay" And the bells were ringing out For Christmas day | SÌSCÉAL NUA EABHRAC B'í Oíche Nollaig í 'S mé caochta óltach, Dúirt seanfhear 'n aice liom, Sí mo Nollaig dheireanach í. 'Sin thosaigh sé gabháil linn, An 'Rare Old Mountain Dew' Chrom mé mo cheann go ciúin 'S mé cuimhniú ortsa. Nach orm a bhí an t-ádh Tháinig sí isteach go breá Airím istigh i mo chroí Gur linn an bhliain seo romhainn Ó Nollaig Shona dhuit, Is tú mo Stóirín Feabhsóidh rudaí fós Amach romhainn atá sé 'S gear le bear iad na cairr 'S na habhainn lán le h-ór Ach tá gáimh ghéar sa ngaoth Ní haon áit í gan glór Nuair a thóg tú mo lámh ar ár gcead Nollaig riamh Gheall tú dhom Broadway a bheith romham ins an tslì Bhí tú dathúil Tá tú meabhrach Banríon Nua Eabhrach Ní raibh críoch leis an scléip Bhí an chraic's spraoi thar barr 'Sinatra' ag swingeáil Na cloig 's iad ag 'ringeáil, Muid ag pógadh 's ag damhnsa Gan imní faoin saol Cóir an NYPD 's iad ag casagh 'Galway Bay', 'S na cloig ag bualadh leo Lá breith Mac Dé. Fear déirce gan rath A shean stróinse gan mhaith I do chrap ansin thall mar bheadh cailleach sa gclúid A Sclíteach, a Chonúis, 'Chacsmuitín an donais Nollaig Shona mo thóin Faraoir gan é thart. Cóir an NYPD 's iad ag casadh 'Galway Bay', 'S na cloig ag bualadh leo Lá breith Mac Dé. Bhí saol breá romhamsa Nach breá an scéal agat é Sciob tú mo bhrionglóid uaim An chéad uair a chas mé ort Tá siad agam i gconaí, a stór I dtaisce i mo chroí Na fág me 'nois a mhnaoi 'S tú bun's barr mo shaoilsa 'S cóir an NYPD 's iad ag casadh 'Galway Bay' 'S na cloig ag bualadh leo Lá breith Mac Dé |
