Dublin Town’s a wondrous sight
of blazing Christmas bling.
In shops the tills chime Silent Night -
ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.
The mood is high, the pubs are gay,
the future’s looking bright.
But there’s a dead man in the doorway
And he’s cold and stiff as ice.
The Minister for Housing says,
“It’s tragic – oh, I know,
but there’s a photo op in Dalkey
and I really have to go.”
His suit is made by Hugo Boss.
His promises are rife.
But there’s a dead man in the doorway
And he’s cold and stiff as ice.
The homeless move in shadows
Abandoned, bruised, star-crossed.
The Christ born in a stable -
The irony is lost.
We carry on regardless,
we’re prosperous, merry and nice.
But there’s a dead man in the doorway
And he’s cold and stiff as ice.
