Lyrics

Snow fell that Christmas at the annual dance
On the streets of Usher’s Island where a gaunt house did stand.
It fell on the carriages emptying of guests,
On the finest attired, on the shabbily dressed,
It fell unrelenting in whistles and whirls
As they climbed up the stairs to a chandeliered world.

Snow fell that Christmas as the Dubliners waltzed,
Reminiscing of opera and of theatre lost,
It fell as they feasted on goose and on ham,
On puddings and sweetcakes, on fruit, and on jam.
It fell as they toasted with sherry and song,
The three haggard spinsters of an age all but gone.

Snow fell that Christmas during Gabriel's speech
On memories, tradition, and hospitality.
It fell on the lodge where his wife later cried
For a childhood sweetheart who for her sake had died.
It fell as he wished he could turn back the page,
To die in young glory than to wither with age.

Snow fell that Christmas all over Ireland,
On the dark central plain, on the bog of Allen,
On the mutinous Shannon, on the churchyards forlorn,
On the statues of martyrs, on the crosses, and the thorns,
It fell, gently falling as the night onward sped,
It fell faintly falling on the living and the dead.