Sister Bridget by the stair: a glass of wine and she's almost there. Cousin Jimmy at the door: another beer and he's on the floor. Friends and neighbours come around, Waste no time we're heaven-bound. But not before we raise a glass to good camaraderie.
Stinky Joe from down the street fell right over his own three feet. He's doubled up in the outside loo, to taste again the devil's brew. Friends and neighbours come around, Waste no time we're heaven-bound. But not before we raise a glass to good camaraderie.
So make yourselves jolly under mistletoe, holly and ivy. Get to it ? and be in good cheer. And when it's all over: pigs gone to clover ? Will the last man at the party wish me a happy New Year.
The house is jumping, suppers up. Curried goat in a paper cup. Forks of plastic, knives of tin: who cares what state the goat is in. Someone with the gift of song Has brought his pal to sing along. Now they're turning up old Frank Sinatra on the stereo.
So make yourselves jolly under mistletoe, holly and ivy. Get to it ? and be in good cheer. And when it's all over: pigs gone to clover ? Will the last man at the party wish me a happy New Year.
Sister Bridget by the stair: a glass of wine and she's almost there. Cousin Jimmy at the door: another beer and he's on the floor. Friends and neighbours come around, Waste no time we're heaven-bound. But not before we raise a glass to good camaraderie.
So make yourselves jolly under mistletoe, holly and ivy. Get to it ? and be in good cheer. And when it's all over: pigs gone to clover ? Will the last man at the party wish me a happy New Year. (x2)
Good morning Weathercock, How'd you fare last night? Did the cold wind bite you, Did you face up to the fright When the leaves spin from October And whip around your tail? Did you shake from the blast, And did you shiver through the gale?
Give us direction, the best of goodwill, Put us in touch with fair winds. Sing to us softly, hum evening's song, Tell us what the blacksmith has done for you.
Do you simply reflect changes In the patterns of the sky, Or is it true to say the weather heeds The twinkle in your eye? Do you fight the rush of winter, And hold snowflakes at bay? Do you lift the dawn sun from the fields And help him on his way?
Good morning Weathercock, make this day bright. Put us in touch with your fair winds. Sing to us softly, hum evening's song. Point the way to better days we can share with you.
I flew in on the evening plane. Is it such a good idea that I am here again? And I could cut my cold breath with a knife. And taste the winter of another life.
A yellow cab from JFK, the long way round. I didn't mind... gave me thinking time before I ran aground on rocky memories and choking tears. I believe it only rained round here in thirty years.
Now, it's the first snow on Brooklyn and my cold feet are drumming. You don't see me in the shadows from your cozy window frame. And last night, who was in your parlour wrapping presents in the late hour to place upon your pillow as the morning came?
Thin wind stings my face... pull collar up. I could murder coffee in a grande cup. No welcome deli; there's no Starbucks here. A dime for a quick phone call could cost me dear.
And the first snow on Brooklyn paints a Christmas card upon the pavement. The cab leaves a disappearing trace and then it's gone. And the snow covers my footprints, deep regrets and heavy heartbeats. When you wake you'll never see the spot that I was standing on.
Some things are best forgotten... some are better half-remembered. I just thought that I might be there on your, on your Christmas night. And the first snow on Brooklyn makes a lonely road to travel - cold crunch steps that echo as the blizzard bites.
Good morning Weathercock, How'd you fare last night? Did the cold wind bite you, Did you face up to the fright When the leaves spin from October And whip around your tail? Did you shake from the blast, And did you shiver through the gale?
Give us direction, the best of goodwill, Put us in touch with fair winds. Sing to us softly, hum evening's song, Tell us what the blacksmith has done for you.
Do you simply reflect changes In the patterns of the sky, Or is it true to say the weather heeds The twinkle in your eye? Do you fight the rush of winter, And hold snowflakes at bay? Do you lift the dawn sun from the fields And help him on his way?
Good morning Weathercock, make this day bright. Put us in touch with your fair winds. Sing to us softly, hum evening's song. Point the way to better days we can share with you.
The bomb's in the china. The fat's in the fire. There's no turkey left on the table. The commuter's return on the six o'clock flyer brings no bale of hay for the stable. Well, the light, it is failing along the green belt as we follow the hard road signs. Semi-detached in our suburban-ness --- we're living in these hard times.
Well the fly's in the milk and the cat's in the stew. Another bun in the oven --- oh, what to do? We'll laugh and we'll sing and try to bring a pound from your pocket. Good day to you. Oh, these hard times.
The politicians sat on the wall and traded with the union game. Someone slapped a writ on our deficit --- not a penny left to our name. Oh, the times are hard and the credits lean, and they toss and they turn in sleep. And the line they take is the line they make --- but it's not the line they keep.
The cow jumped over yesterday's moon and the lock ran away with the key. You know what you like, and you like what you know but there is no jam for tea. Well the light it is failing along the green belt as we follow the hard road signs. Semi-detached in our suburban-ness --- we're living in these hard times.
Through long December nights we talk in words of rain or snow While you, through chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go. Why not spare a thought this day for those who have no flame To warm their bones at Christmas time? Say Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.
Now as the last broad oak leaf falls, we beg: consider this --- there's some who have no coin to save for turkey, wine or gifts. No children's laughter round the fire, no family left to know.
So lend a warm and a helping hand --- Say Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.
As holly pricks and ivy clings, Your fate is none too clear. The Lord may find you wanting, let your good fortune disappear. All homely comforts blown away and all that's left to show Is to share your joy at Christmas time With Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.
Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green? With his long tail hanging down. He quietly sits under every tree --- in the folds of his velvet gown. He drinks from the empty acorn cup the dew that dawn sweetly bestows. And taps his cane upon the ground --- signals the snowdrops it's time to grow.
It's no fun being Jack-In-The-Green --- no place to dance, no time for song. He wears the colours of the summer soldier --- carries the green flag all the winter long.
Jack, do you never sleep --- does the green still run deep in your heart? Or will these changing times, motorways, powerlines, keep us apart? Well, I don't think so --- I saw some grass growing through the pavements today.
The rowan, the oak and the holly tree are the charges left for you to groom. Each blade of grass whispers Jack-In-The-Green. Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night. And we are the berries on the holly tree. Oh, the mistlethrush is coming. Jack, put out the light.
Hope everybody's ringing on their own bell this fine morning Hope everyone's connected to that long distance phone Old man he's a mountain Old man he's an island Old man he's a-waking says "I'm going to call, call all my children home"
Hope everybody's dancing to their own drum this fine morning The beat of distant Africa or a Polish factory town Old man he's calling for his supper Calling for his whisky Calling for his sons and daughters, yeah Calling, calling all his children round
Sharp ears are tuned in to the drones and chanters warming Mist blowing round some headland, somewhere in your memory Everyone is from somewhere Even if you've never been there So take a minute to remember the part of you That might be the old man calling me
How many wars you fighting out there this winter's morning? Maybe there's always time for another christmas song Old man is asleep now Got appointments to keep now Dreaming of his sons and daughters, and proving Proving that the blood is strong
