In my twisted arms you fell asleep as the cathedral bells rang out over the chimney lots of Harcourt street. I watch the dribs and drabs attending masses, those genuflecting heads polishing their reading glasses. I watched you sleeping as evening turned to night, but in the morning you left me travelling to Cambodia. So long little darling we'll meet again on the road, I heard through a friend of a friend you were dancing in a multicultural burlesque show. Here's to you my love. Those eastern nights they'll take some beating, though my drunken professions of love they didn't stop you from leaving. Those eastern nights they left me bitter and for love nor money you'd stay with me honey, for love nor money you'd stay. By the burned out barber shop I earned my keep pouring my guts out in story and song for the working classes until I was dead on my feet. Then you appeared out of nowhere with a reassuring smile, arm in arm down bachelors walk I swore that I'd put your past to one side. Ah well here's to you my love. Those eastern nights they'll take some beating, your collection of beautiful lies I ate them up and gave thanks for inspiring The spieling. Those eastern nights they left me bitter. For love nor money you'd stay with me honey, for love nor money you'd stay.

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): David Kennan