Texty:
Pogues The If I Should Fall From Grace With God

I come old friend from hell tonight Across the rotting sea Nor the nails of the cross, nor the blood of Christ Can bring you help this eve The dead have

Dear old Times Square's favorite bard Then we raised a glass to JFK And a dozen more besides When I got back to my empty room I suppose I must have

days are done I bet on a horse called the 'Bottle Of Smoke' And my horse won Stewards inquiries, swift and fiery I had the bottle of smoke Inquisitions and suppositions I

breeze On a road leading up Glenaveigh I sat for a while at the cross at Finnoe Where young lovers would meet when the flowers were in bloom Heard the men coming home from

I am francisco vasquez garcia I am welcome to almeria We have sin gas and con leche We have fiesta and feria We have the song of the cochona We have brandy

The Irish Rover There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee There was Hogan from County Tyrone There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work And a man from

Překlad: Pogues. Pokud bych měl pád z Grace s Bohem.

(Shane MacGowan) If I should fall from grace with god Where no doctor can relieve me If I'm buried 'neath the sod But the angels won't receive me Let

your arse I pray God It's our last I could have been someone So could anyone You took my dreams From me when I first found you I kept them with me babe