Lyrics Irish Music 3 - The Irish Folk

Irish Music 3

Dirty old street all slushed up in the rain and snow
Little boy and his ma shivering outside a rundown music store window
That night on top of a Christmas tree shines one beautiful star
And lying underneath a brand-new Japanese guitar
I remember in the morning, ma, hearing your alarm clock ring
I’d lie in bed and listen to you gettin' ready for work
The sound of your makeup case on the sink
And the ladies at the office, all lipstick, perfume, and rustlin' skirts
And how proud and happy you always looked walking home from work
If pa’s eyes were windows into a world so deadly and true
You couldn’t stop me from looking but you kept me from crawlin' through
And if it’s a funny old world, mama, where a little boy’s wishes come true
Well I got a few left in my pocket and a special one just for you
It ain’t no phone call on Sunday, flowers or a mother’s day card
It ain’t no house on a hill with a garden and a nice little yard
I got my hatred down on Bond Street, I’m older but you’ll know me in a glance
We’ll find us a little rock 'n' roll bar and baby we’ll go out and dance
Well it was me in my Beatle boots, you in pink curlers and matador pants
Pullin' me up off the couch to do the twist for my uncles and aunts
Well I found a girl of my own now, ma, I popped the question on your birthday
She stood waiting on the front porch while you were telling me to get out there
And say what it was that I had to say
Last night we all sat around laughing at the things that guitar bought us
And I layed awake thinking 'bout the other things it’s brought us
Well tonight I’m taking requests here in the kitchen
This one’s for you, ma, let me come right out and say it
It s overdue, but baby, if you re looking for a sad song, well I ain’t gonna
play it