Альбом Pogues

If I should fall from grace with God
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried 'neath the sod
But the angels won't receive me

Let me go boys, let me go boys
Let me go down in the mud where the rivers all run dry

This land was always ours
It was the proud land of our fathers
It belongs to us and them
Not to any of the others

Let them go boys, let them go boys
Let them go down in the mud where the rivers all run dry

Bury me at sea
Where no murdered ghost can haunt me
If I rock upon the waves
No corpse can lie upon me

It's coming up three boys, keeps coming up three boys
Let them go down in the mud where the rivers all run dry

If I should fall from grace with God
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried 'neath the sod
So the angels won't receive me

Let me go boys, let me go boys
Let me go down in the mud where the rivers all run dry

I come old friend from Hell tonight
Across the rotting sea
Nor the nails of the cross
Nor the blood of Christ
Can bring you help this eve
The dead have come to claim a debt from thee
They stand outside your door
Four score and three
Did you keep a watch for the dead man's wind
Did you see the woman with the comb in her hand
Wailing away on the wall on the strand
As you danced to the Turkish song of the damned

You remember when the ship went down
You left me on the deck
The captain's corpse jumped up
And threw his arms around my neck
For all these years I've had him on my back
This debt cannot be paid with all your jack

And as I sit and talk to you I see your face go white
This shadow hanging over me
Is no trick of the light
The spectre on my back will soon be free
The dead have come to claim a debt from thee

Thanks and praises
Thanks to Jesus
I bet on the Bottle of Smoke
I went to hell
And to the races
To bet on the Bottle of Smoke

The day being clear
The sky being bright
He came up on the left
Like a streak of light
Like a drunken fuck
On a Saturday night
Up came the Bottle of Smoke

Twenty fucking five to one
Me gambling days are done
I bet on a horse called the Bottle of Smoke
And my horse won

Stewards inquiries
Swift and fiery
I had the Bottle of Smoke
Inquisitions and suppositions
I had the Bottle of Smoke

Fuck the stewards
A trip to Lourdes
Might give the old fuckers
The power of sight
Screaming springers and stoppers
And call out coppers
But the money still gleams in my hand like a light

Bookies cursing
Cars reversing
I had the Bottle of Smoke
Glasses steaming
Vessels bursting
I had the Bottle of Smoke
Slip a fifty to the wife
And for each brat a crisp new five
To give me a break on a Saturday night
When I had the Bottle of Smoke
Priests and maidens
Drunk as pagans
They had the Bottle of Smoke
Sins forgiven and celebrations
They had the Bottle of Smoke

Fuck the Yanks
And drink their wives
The moon is clear
The sky is bright
I'm happy as the horse's shite
Up came the Bottle of Smoke

It was Christmas eve, babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me
Won't see another one

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 had a feeling that years
For me and you

Said, "Happy Christmas
I love you, baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true"

They got cars, big as bars
They got rivers of gold
But the wind blows right through you
It's no place for the old

When I first took your hand
All your fingers were blue
Well, I promised you Broadway
Was waiting for you

I was 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
And we kissed on a corner
Danced through the night

And the boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing, 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day

Be a bum, it was a clutter
And smell like the gutter
While sad broken promises
Lay with the trash

Every cold chilly night
We'd end up in a fight
And I'd pray as you'd yell
That as train rattled past

And the boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing, 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing out
Christmas day

I could have been someone
Say, so could anyone
That I took your dreams from you
When you first found me

But I kept them with me, babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
Built my dreams around you

It's Christmas eve again
In the drunk tank
I'm an old man now
I won't see another one

So I'll sing a song
And sleep when I'm through
Dream of another life
Where all our dreams came true

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The island it is silent now
But the ghosts still haunt the waves
And the torch lights up a famished man
Who fortune could not save

Did you work upon the railroad
Did you rid the streets of crime
Were your dollars from the white house
Were they from the five and dime

Did the old songs taunt or cheer you
And did they still make you cry
Did you count the months and years
Or did your teardrops quickly dry

Ah, no, says he, 'twas not to be
On a coffin ship I came here
And I never even got so far
That they could change my name

Thousands are sailing
Across the western ocean
To a land of opportunity
That some of them will never see
Fortune prevailing
Across the western ocean
Their bellies full
Their spirits free
They'll break the chains of poverty
And they'll dance

In Manhattan's desert twilight
In the death of afternoon
We stepped hand in hand on Broadway
Like the first man on the moon

And "The Blackbird" broke the silence
As you whistled it so sweet
And in Brendan Behan's footsteps
I danced up and down the street

Then we said goodnight to Broadway
Giving it our best regards
Tipped our hats to Mister Cohen
Dear old Times Square's favorite bard

Then we raised a glass to JFK
And a dozen more besides
When I got back to my empty room
I suppose I must have cried

Thousands are sailing
Again across the ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Postcards we're mailing
Of sky-blue skies and oceans
From rooms the daylight never sees
Where lights don't glow on Christmas trees
But we dance to the music
And we dance

Thousands are sailing
Across the western ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Where e'er we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees
From fear of Priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies
And we dance

I am Francisco Vasquez Garcia
I am welcome to Almeria
We have sin gas and con leche
We have fiesta and feria
We have the song of the cochona
We have brandy and half corona
And Leonardo and his accordione
And Kalamari and macaroni

Come all you rambling boys of pleasure
And ladies of easy leisure
We must say Adios! until we see
Almeria once again

There is a minstrel, there you see,
And he stoppeth one in three
He whispers in this one's ear
"Will you kindly kill that doll for me"
Now he has won cochona in the bingo
All the town has watched this crazy gringo
As he pulls off the dolls head laughing
And miraldo! throws its body in the sea

El veinticinco de agosto
Abrio sus ojos Jaime Fearnley
Para el bebe cinquante cincampari
Y se tendio para cerrarlos
Y Costello el rey del America
Y suntuosa Cait O'Riordan
Nor vompere mis calliones
Los gritos fuera de las casas

(Recruiting Sergeant)

As I was walking down the road
A feeling fine and larky oh
A recruiting sergeant came up to me
Says he, you'd look fine in khaki oh
For the King he is in need of men
Come read this proclamation oh
A life in Flanders for you then
Would be a fine vacation oh

That may be so says I to him
But tell me sergeant dearie-oh
If I had a pack stuck upon my back
Would I look fine and cheerie oh
For they'd have you train and drill until
They had you one of the Frenchies oh
It may be warm in Flanders
But it's draughty in the trenches oh

The sergeant smiled and winked his eye
His smile was most provoking oh
He twiddled and twirled his wee mustache
Says he, I know you're only joking oh
For the sandbags are so warm and high
The wind you won't feel blowing oh
Well I winked at a cailin passing by
Says I, what if it's snowing oh

Come rain or hail or wind or snow
I'm not going out to Flanders oh
There's fighting in Dublin to be done
Let your sergeants and your commanders go
Let Englishmen fight English wars
It's nearly time they started oh
I saluted the sergeant a very good night
And there and then we parted oh

(The Rocky Road to Dublin)

Instrumental

(Galway Races)

As I went down to Galway Town
To seek for recreation
On the seventeenth of August
Me mind being elevated
There were passengers assembled
With their tickets at the station
And me eyes began to dazzle
And they off to see the races

With me wack fol the do fol
The diddle idle day

There were passengers from Limerick
And passengers from Nenagh
The boys of Connemara
And the Clare unmarried maiden
There were people from Cork City
Who were loyal, true and faithful
Who brought home the Fenian prisoners
From dying in foreign nations

And it's there you'll see the pipers
And the fiddlers competing
And the sporting wheel of fortune
And the four and twenty quarters
And there's others without scruple
Pelting wattles at poor Maggie
And her father well contented
And he gazing at his daughter

And it's there you'll see the jockeys
And they mounted on so stably
The pink, the blue, the orange, and green
The colors of our nation
The time it came for starting
All the horses seemed impatient
Their feet they hardly touched the ground
The speed was so amazing!

There was half a million people there
Of all denominations
The Catholic, the Protestant, the Jew, the Presbyterian
Yet there was no animosity
No matter what persuasion
But failte hospitality
Inducing fresh acquaintance

Oh farewell, you streets of sorrow
And 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
Oh, 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 seven long days
God help you if ever you're caught on these shores
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 the lousy cell
From wall to wall, then 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 to wall, then back again

Counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
'Round the yard and the lousy cell
From wall to wall, then back again

As I walked down by the riverside
One evening in the spring
Heard a long gone song
From days gone by
Blown in on the great North wind.
Though there is no lonesome corncrake's cry
Or sorrow and delight
You can hear the cars
And the shouts from bars
And the laughter and the fights.

May the ghosts that howled
Round the house at night
Never keep you from your sleep
May they all sleep tight
Down in hell tonight
Or where ever they may be.

As I walked on with a heavy heart
Then a stone danced on the tide
And the song went on
Though the lights were gone
And the North wind gently sighed
And an evening breeze coming from the east
That kissed the riverside
So I pray now child that you sleep tonight
When you hear this lullaby.

May the wind that blows from haunted graves
Never bring you misery
May the angels bright
Watch you tonight
And keep you while you sleep.

Sit down by the fire and I'll tell you a story
To send you away to your bed
Of the things you hear creeping when everyone's sleeping
And you wish you were out here instead

It isn't the mice in the wall
It isn't the wind in the well
Every night they march out of that hole in the wall
Passing through on their way out of hell

They're the things that you see when you wake up and scream
The cold things that follow you down the Boreen
They live in the small ring of trees on the hill
Up at the top of the field

And they dance on the rain
And they dance on the wind
They tap on the window when no one is in
And if ever you see them

Pretend that you're dead
Or they'll bite off your head
They'll rip out your liver
And dance on your neck

They dance on your head
And they dance on your chest
They give you the cramp
And the cholic for jest

They're the things that you see when you wake up and scream
The cold things that follow you down the Boreen
They live in the small ring of trees on the hill
Up at the top of the field

They play on the wind
They sing on the rain
They dance on your eyes
They dance in your brain

Remember this place
It's damp and it's cold
The best place on earth
But it's dark and it's old

So lie near the wall
And cover your head
Good night and God bless
Now fuck off to bed

The last time I saw you was down at the Greeks
There was whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
You sang me a song as pure as the breeze
Blowing up the road to Glenaveigh
I sat for a while at the cross at Finnoe
Where young lovers would meet when the flowers were in bloom
Heard the men coming home from the fair at Shinrone
Their hearts in Tipperary wherever they go

Take my hand, and dry your tears babe
Take my hand, forget your fears babe
There's no pain, there's no more sorrow
They're all gone, gone in the years babe

I sat for a while by the gap in the wall
Found a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
Heard the cards being dealt, and the rosary called
And a fiddle playing Sean Dun na nGall
And the next time I see you we'll be down at the Greeks
There'll be whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
For it's stupid to laugh and it's useless to bawl
About a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball

So I walked as day was dawning
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
Where we once watched the row boats landing
By the broad majestic Shannon

The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out
The ones that crawl in are lean and thin
The ones that crawl out are fat and stout
Your eyes fall in and your teeth fall out
Your brains come tumbling down your snout

Be merry my friends
Be merry