New York has been buried in snow since last Saturday

And the paper said that the storm had passed over you

And thank you for the play you wrote about Eloise

And her injury at the hand of an almighty memory

And I might have guessed

That you would press a rose in the pages

Where Abelard confesses his love and his pain to her lips

And Nora, it was no sin

They could turn the other cheek or take it on the chin

But Nora, it was no sin

So Christmas was as blue for you as it was for me

All those angels trumpeting their ecstasy

And your husband has accepted the parish in Greenland

I met him drowning his vows at the bar

And there we raised the first, and the next, and a third glass to you

Hunched on our barstools, calling our truce by your name

And Nora, there is no sin

We can turn the other cheek or take it on the chin

But Nora, there is no sin

Nora, there is no sin

Nora, there is no sin