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Elvis`only Christmas song , of sorts , is about the day after Christmas , Dec. 26th. That day is generally known as St Stephens Day in Ireland (deriving from when religious matters defined aspects of Irish life ) . Elvis wrote and recorded the song for a Chieftains album , The Bells of Dublin , in 1991. It , perhaps , received a more general audience when it was included as an extra with the 2002 Rhino re-issue of Mighty Like A Rose.

The lyric is a perfect portrayal of family life in the aftermath of Christmas. After the joy of the day , tensions reappear. Remembering , perhaps , extended family gatherings in his Anglo-Irish Liverpool/London childhood he includes references that are not strictly true to an Irish childhood . `That drink made from girders` -Irn Bru - still is not widely available in Ireland. `Tia Marias` would more likely be replaced by Jameson or Paddys.

Whatever - it is still a very funny song. My strongest memory of the song dates from 1995 . That summer I saw him perform it at the Cambridge Folk Festival. Performing solo he introduced it as a `cooling song`, to help the audience deal with suffocating heat at a partly covered out door show.

St. Stephen's Day Murders (Costello/Moloney)
========================

I knew of two sisters whose name it was Christmas
And one was named Dawn, of course the other one was
named Eve
I wonder if they grew up hating the season
The good will that lasts till the Feast of St. Stephen

For that is the time to eat, drink and be merry
Till the beer is all spilled and the whiskey has
flowed
And the whole family tree you neglected to bury
Are feeding their faces until they explode

Chorus:
There'll be laughter and tears over Tia Marias
Mixed up with that drink made from girders
Cause it's all we`ve got left as they draw their
last breath
Ah, it's nice for the kids as you finally get rid of
them
In the St. Stephen's Day Murders

Uncle is gargling a heart-breaking air
While the baby in his arms pulls all that remains of
his hair
And we're not drunk enough to dare criticise
The great kipper tie he's about to baptise

With his gin flavoured whispers and kisses of sherry
His best crimble shirt's slung out over the shop
But the lights from the Christmas tree blew up the
telly
His face closes in like an old cold pork chop

And the carcass of the the beast left over from the
feast
May still be found haunting the kitchen
And there's life in it yet, we may live to regret
When the ones that we poisoned stop twitchin`

-chorus-