Fairytale of New York by the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl is an Irish folk-style ballad and Christmas song, written by Jem Finer and Shane MacGowan. It was released in November 1987 after two years in the making and – although it never quite made the number one slot in the UK Singles Chart (it was kept off it by the Pet Shop Boys’ Always on my Mind) – has proved enduringly popular, consistently topping polls of the “nation’s all-time favourite” Christmas songs.
The opening lines make it evident that this is no typical Christmas song: it’s Christmas Eve in a New York City drunk tank, with an Irish immigrant in inebriated reverie about the song’s female character, and their hopes and dreams, destined to be crushed by alcohol, drugs and circumstance. No bells jingling and children playing here.
The famous call-and-response duel between Shane MacGowan and Kirsty MaColl is doubtless the element that stamps its mark on the listener’s consciousness, with its amusing tirade of abuse in words only just on the right side of the radio censor (in fact, Radio 1 did ban the words “slut” and “faggot” on 18th December 2007, only to reverse the ban later in the same day due to criticism from listeners, the band, and Kirsty MacColl’s mother!). I might add, incidentally, that “faggot” is Irish slang for a lazy, no-good person, so need not be confused with the pejorative word for “gay”.
The melodious voice of MacColl fits in perfectly with MacGowan’s rough drawl, though the involvement of MacColl only came about due to a fallout between the band and the original choice for the female voice, bass player Cait O’Riordan. When O’Riordan left the band in October 1986, producer Steve Lilywhite suggested letting his wife (MacColl) lay down a new guide vocal for the song, simply with a view to helping future auditions. When they heard it, the band of course loved it and realised that this was the voice for the song. As MacGowan was quoted later: “Kirsty knew exactly the right measure of viciousness and femininity and romance to put into it”.
Backed by the consummate musicianship of the Pogues, the song’s vocals and lyricism add up to a very rounded, meaningful and bittersweet piece of music that has unarguably captured the imagination of a nation. Merry Christmas!
It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won’t see another one
And 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’ve got a feeling
This year’s for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true
They’ve got cars big as bars
They’ve got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It’s no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me
You were 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
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day
You’re a bum
You’re a punk
You’re an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God it’s our last
The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day
I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can’t make it all alone
I’ve built my dreams around you
The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells are ringing out
For Christmas day
