Слова:
Joyce

Clonbur, in Joyce Country, almost every second Friday night, Pearse christened them the Joyce Country ceili Band, hence the song. We're the Joyce country

I have traveled many moonless nights Cold and weary with a babe inside And I wonder what I've done Holy Father, You have come And chosen me now to carry

Oh, the weather outside is frightful But the fire is so delightful And since we've no place to go Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow It doesn't show

Oh yeah... Candles burning low, Lot's of mistletoe. Lot's of snow and ice, Everywhere we go. Choirs singing carols, Right outside my door. All these

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining It is the night of our dear Savior's birth Long lay the world in sin and error pining Till he appeared and

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire Jack Frost nipping at your nose Yuletide carols being sung by a choir And folks dressed up like Eskimos Everybody

here I got your letter from Boise Idaho James Joyce Soles, James Joyce Soles I went down at midnight to the Holy Loch shore Scattered the ashes of James Joyce

Il y a des mots qui me gene des centaines de mots des milliers de rengaines qui ne sont jamais les memes Comment te dire je veux pas te mentir tu m'attires

On a passe des heures devant le miroir Mais ya personne qui est la pour le voir On est reste des heures assises au comptoir Mais ya personne qui est venu