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 

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