Memories of Christmas (Sláinte Mhaith) Lyrics

When I was three, I watched Queen air a rhapsody on a black and white TV

Grandpa drank Courage and smoked a Woodbine

Sat with my aunt, uncle and me

It's snowing outside and the fireclay are lit, as Gran comes in from the cold

Mother's in tow, their arms full of gifts

My first memory of Christmas took hold

A year passes by and Francis the Bruce, visits with his acoustic guitar

The year after that, a colour set; times worthy of B, G and R

Mull of Kintyre played through the house, a mist rolling in from the stove

Smells of gravy, turkey, pudding, mince pies, mulled-wine, cinnamon and clove

These are my memories

The office céilí, a fine Irish inn, Mathew Street, late 89

Joy in the air and the old oaken floor, dusted with tinsel and pines

A fairy-lit stage, an artist performed, songs on a white Fender-Strat

Odes to, Lennon, McCartney, The Pogues and MacColl, Frankie, Stevens and Nat

"It's that time of year", the boss cried in cheer, "drinks for ever-y-one!" Slàinte!

Stumbling to, Rea, his Hamlet, half lit, with a match from a box with a swan

Paul Flynn and I, we drank that bar dry, Advocaat/Bianco aside

Last orders rang out, to the sweet sound of, George, we all made our way outside

Walking home in the snow, frozen head to toe, not a single taxi in sight

Jack is unkind, hangovers assured, we sure heard sleigh bells that night!

A festive applaud to the songs we adore

By, Elton, Wizzard, and Slade

From, Lake and Lewie, de Burgh and Bowie

Oldfield, Mud and Band Aid

Timeless tracks of our age

Christmas arrives, through a frosted pane, a vision of brilliant white

Cathedral bells reign, a new bike for, Wayne, a snowman and snowball fight

I creep down the stairs and try to traverse the stockings, torn paper and junk

The tantrum and blame over a trivial game; far cry from Risk or Kerplunk

Seated for dinner, the table adorned, my kinfolk a sight to behold

Theresa says grace, then follows a day, akin to family, Griswold's

A cracker is pulled and out falls a hat, bad joke and cheap black moustache

Food fit for Kings; we're fit to burst but there's room for, Ste's garlic-mash

Uncle Gary sings, his tribute to, Bing through amp and toy microphone

We dance through the night, me with Ms Wright, my long-haired lover from home

A festive applaud to the songs we adore

By, Elton, Wizzard, and Slade

From, Lake and Lewie, de Burgh and Bowie

Oldfield, Mud and Band Aid

Timeless tracks of our age

Yesteryear Yuletides

Presents of past times

Singing along to songs

By, Elton, Wizzard and Slade

Tinsel and old pines

Canned ales and Woodbines

These, are my memories, of Christmas

These, are our memories, of Christmas