Corsets sway above
On a clothes line hung with thongs
And Habs pyjamas
Meet me on Beaubien
When copper sun is setting
These old bricks on fire
Dry old yellow moon
Flies above skeleton trees
And that good, cold air
Hot Dog Mont-Royal
We’re all dressed and tout garni
Les amis bavardent
Freaking and peaking
Down St. Catherines sneaking
In my furry hat
They are building them
Shelters of white cloth, out back
Homes for ghosts or cars
We shut down Else’s
There was nowhere elses. And
The dark streets sparkled
Filthy snow and ice
The snow machines are coming
I will miss this place