(Thomas)
Oh the winds they were howlin' both ragged and cold
Through the grey Melbourne streets in the pre-Christmas days
And the Sisters of Mercy looked out through their tents
At the fires in petrol drums, they seemed to say
Have we come to this, is it all we can do
To sit here and wait, to see the thing through?
But to dig in their heels was a thing they'd been taught
So they painted a sign and it said, "Blow your horn if you support"
Oh Sister of Mercy, why can't they see
That a daughter of charity you'll never be
It's a wicked old game that the government plays
When they treat you like dogs, then you must have your day
It's a telephone vote, everyone grab your phones
All the people dial in from their luxury homes
It was easy to do, far too easily done
Well the thumbs they went down, it was three against one
And none of us now can know how that felt
But they strengthened their stance and they tightened their belts
And the papers they all said "no beer for Christmas"
It seemed such a shame
While the nurses sat out in the wind and the rain
Oh Sister of Mercy, why can't they see
That a daughter of charity you'll never be
It's a wicked old game that the government plays
When they treat you like dogs, then you must have your day
Well the girl on the six o'clock news looked concerned
As she told of the developments bitter and bold
But I could not help wonder what she got for Christmas
And was there a story we hadn't been told
In the newsroom, at the breakup the whole thing was fine
But they never drank beer, the bastards drank wine
While down on the pickets they cared not for beer
Just for health, just for welfare
Just for their hard fought careers
Oh Sister of Mercy, why can't they see
That a daughter of charity you'll never be
It's a wicked old game that the government plays
When they treat you like dogs, then you must have your day
When they treat you like dogs, then you must have your day
You will have your day, someday...