Dark Streets Of London
I liked to walk in the summer breeze
Down Dalling Road by the dead old trees
And drink with my friends in the Hammersmith Broadway
Dear dirty old drunken delightful old days
Then the winter came down and I loved it so dearly
The pubs and the bookies where you'd spend all your time
And the old men that were singing when the roses bloom again
And turn once again to a new summertime
Then the winter comes down and I can't stand the chill
That comes to the streets around Christmas time and I'm buggered to damnation
And I haven't got a penny to wander the dark streets of London
Every time that I look on the first day of summer
Takes me back to the place where they gave ECT
And the drugged up psychos with death in their eyes
And all of this really means nothing to me
Dirty Old Town
I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
I kissed my girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town dirty old town
Clouds are drifting across the moon
Cats are prowling on their beat
Spring's a girl for on the streets at night
Dirty old town dirty old town
I heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
I smelled the spring on the smoky wind
Dirty old town dirty old town
I'm gonna make me a big sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
Will chop you down like an old dead tree
Dirty old town dirty old town
I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed a girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town dirty old town
Fairytale Of New York
It was Christmas Eve 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 are 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 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
Streets Of Sorrow / Birmingham Six
Farewell you streets of sorrow farewell you streets of pain
I'll not return to feel more sorrow nor to see more young men slain
Through the last six years I've lived through terror
And in the darkened streets the pain how I long to find some solace
In my mind I curse the strain so farewell you streets of sorrow and farewell you streets of pain
No I'll not return to feel more sorrow nor to see more young men slain
There were six men in Birmingham in Guildford there's four
That were picked up and tortured and framed by the law
And the filth got promotion but they're still doing time
For being Irish in the wrong place and at the wrong time
In Ireland they'll put you away in the Maze
In England they'll keep you for several long days
God help you if ever you're caught on these shores
And the coppers need someone and they walk through that door
You'll be counting years first five, then ten growing old in a lonely hell
Round the yard and the stinking cell from wall to wall, and back again
A curse on the judges, the coppers and screws
Who tortured the innocent, wrongly accused,
For the price of promotion and justice to sell
May the judged be their judges when they rot down in hell
You'll be counting years first five, then ten growing old in a lonely hell
Round the yard and lousy cell from wall to wall, and back again
May the whores of the empire lie awake in their beds
And sweat as they count out the sins on their heads
While over in Ireland eight more men lie dead
Kicked down and shot in the back of the head
You'll be counting years first five, then ten growing old in a freezing hell
Round the yard and the lousy cell from wall and back again
Streams Of Whiskey
Last night as I slept I dreamt I met with Behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views on the crux of life's philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me but the rope always was slack
And now that I've a pile I'll go down to the Chelsea
I'll walk in on my feet but I'll leave there on my back
I am going, I am going any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going where streams of whiskey are flowing
The words that he spoke seemed the wisest of philosophies
There's nothing ever gained by a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark and I need the light inside of me
I'll go into a bar and drink fifteen pints of beer
I am going, I am going any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going where streams of whiskey are flowing
Down In The Ground Where The Dead Men Go
Hello boys I've been away on a bit of a holiday to the land
Where the rivers freely flow and the cattle roam on the wild callagh
Walking home three parts pissed I stumbled and fell in the morning mist
I fell and rolled in the hungry grass that tells the tale of a terrible past
I screamed and ran and dreamt I fell down in the depths of a freezing hell
Four million people starved to death could smell the curse on their dying breath
Where no one ever wants to go down in the ground where the dead men go
To hell which is circular all around down in the belly of the big cold ground
The moving shadows were everywhere the very trees seemed to bend and stare
I remembered the dunes on a Sligo shore screamed and ran till I could run no more
Over the fields and across the moor I ran in the house and slammed the door
What the hell's that over there a putrefying corpse sitting in that chair
Where no one ever wants to go down in the ground where the dead men go
Been drunk as a skunk since I've been home from bar to bar like a ghost I roamed
I can't forget those things I saw been down with the devil in the Dalling Road
One place I don't want to go down in the ground where the dead men go
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