Lyrics: Richard Shindell. Nora.

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