Rows of lights in a circle of steel where you place your bets on a great big wheel.
High windows flickering down through the snow, a time you know.
Sights and sounds of the people going around, everybody's in step with the season.
A child is born to a welfare case where the rats run around like they own the place.
The room is chilly, the building is old, that's how it goes.
The doctor's found on his welfare rounds and he comes and he leaves on the double.
?Deck The Halls? was the song they played in the flat next door where they shout all day.
She tips her gin bottle back till it's gone, the child is strong.
A week, a day, they will take it away for they know about all her bad habits.
Christmas dawns and the snow lets up and the sun hits the handle of her heirloom cup.
She hides her face in her hands for a while, says ?Look here child,
Your father's pride was his means to provide and he's serving three years for that reason.?
Rows of lights in a circle of steel where you place your bets on a great big wheel.
High windows flickering down through the snow, a time you know.
Sights and sounds of the people going around, everybody's in step with the season.
Writer(s): Gordon Lightfoot
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