New York has been buried
In snow since last Saturday
The papers said the storm
Had passed over you
Thank you for the play
You wrote about Heloise
And her injury at the hand
Of an almighty memory
And I might have guessed you'd 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
And 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
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 bar stools
Calling our truce by your name
And Nora, there is no sin
We can turn the other cheek
And take it on the chin
But Nora, there is no sin
Nora, there is no sin
Nora, there is no sin