DON'T PLAY ME YOUR CONCERTINA
WORDS Les Barker (with apologies to Tim Rice)
MUSIC Andrew Lloyd-Webber

It isn't easy, they think it strange
When I try to explain how I feel
When I try to describe Friday nights at the Sun
They don't believe me
All that I see is a fiddler or two, a bloke who sings songs about mines,
A flautist from Devon and you.

I don't know how it happened
You're all deranged
Couldn't spend half my life playing reels
And to have each one sound like the previous one
Did I choose boredom?
Scraping a sound without much of a clue
And no sense of rhythm at all
I don't want to hear this, thank you

Don't play me your concertina, the one Uncle Trevor left you
The Sun on Fridays, where no one listens
'Cept down the highway and from distance

And as for fortune and as for fame
I trust you're not holding your breath
And don't play me that world stuff on some kind of lyre
No folk/jazz fusion, let's clear the confusion
No Morris for me
Those dancers are here all the time
A long way from sobriety.

Don't play me your concertina, the one Uncle Trevor left you
The Sun on Friday, where no one listens
'Cept down the highway and from a distance

Bridge:
It won't hurt too much to hear no more from the bloke with the didgeridoo
But will you promise, too, that not one single note is henceforth heard from you?

Don't play me your concertina, the one Uncle Trevor left you
The Sun on Friday, where no one listens
'Cept down the highway and from a distance

Don't play me your concertina
Please.

As sung by Hilary Spencer with Mrs Ackroyd Band@Fylde Folk Festival 2011
Don't Play Me Your Concertina

NK