The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #17293   Message #1229141
Posted By: Joe Offer
19-Jul-04 - 02:46 PM
Thread Name: Origins: They Don't Write 'Em Like That Anymore
Subject: DT Corr: THEY DON'T WRITE 'EM LIKE THAT ANYMORE
Pete Betts posted a message in another thread (click) that gave the words to this song as he wrote them. Here's his message, with some corrections on format:

Thread #71681   Message #1229119
Posted By: GUEST
19-Jul-04 - 02:18 PM
Thread Name: How to Correct Songs in Mudcat Database
Subject: RE: How to Correct Songs in Mudcat Database

Prize Pedant - please change your handle to Prize Prick, and , Smiler demonstrating an equal level of stupidity in inferring in his / her remark that I lacked a modicum of intelligence.
Such arrogance is truly embarrassing
In the absent of lateral thinking - let me point out that my guest / nickname is derived from my actual Surname and there is no gender connection - I am a male of the species.
Thanks Joe for some intelligent directions.
Right, after that bout of unpleasantness - aroused by unhelpful people, let me explain: -

1. The point is, if I had been looking for the words for this song and I wanted the definitive version, I would have looked in the Database and found some thing which is vastly different from the one I wrote which is the (fairly) widely-sang and known version.
2. I didn't put the song into the Database, I don't know how – I think someone who recorded it may have done.
3. The data base credits the Song to me by Surname only – and assumes – I might be from "The States".
4. I am English – the version posted in the Database has had made many changes to the song to suit his Scottish tongue.
5. There is a thread in Mudcat regarding this Song.
6. The data base version also has something which looks like @music which worries me that someone may be claiming copyright – but it's a song I've shared with many e.g.
Tony Capstick ( x 2 LPs)
Vin Garbutt
Gary and Vera Aspey
Marie Little
Myself and various other good hearted minstrels and is sung in many English speaking gatherings – Folk Clubs and Festivals, in Britain and throughout the world.

In the Thread http://www.mudcat.org/Detail.CFM? Messages__Message_ID=788770
McGrath of Hounslow (amongst others) earns my eternal gratitude for attempting to right a wrong. I tried to attach a file with the correct version, but the preview suggests it hasn't worked so I give you the full song below. I hope you will appreciate the difference in the spirit and content of the words, compared to that in the Database and I hope you will realise why I wish to know, as the Thread says "How to Correct Songs in Mudcat Database"

THEY DON'T WRITE 'EM LIKE THAT ANYMORE
('EE HOW WE COULD SING)
(words and music by Pete Betts)

Dad's drunk again and he's brought lots of men,
And their wives, home from the club,
There's a shortage of beer but you need have no fear ,
Bert's gone round the back door of the pub,
Someone's playing the piana as if using a sledge hammer,
Crucifying "There Goes My Heart",
Then a burst through the door – it's Bert and what’s-more,
He's got the beer, so we're ready to start.

Chorus
'Ee how we could sing, what fun those nights would bring,
Singing for hours on end,
Once we'd found a key - oh! What harmony!
Those boozy voices could lend,
"Heart-of-my-Heart" just for a start,
Or "Walking My Baby Back Home".
When it comes to an end, it's -let's sing it again!,
They don't write 'em like that anymore

Our mam's in the kitchen trying to knock-up a snack,
From the chicken we had this afternoon,
Jack sez "where's the toilet" dad sez "down the back"
By the looks, not a minute too soon!
A laugh goes round the whole house, Jack fell in the coal-house,
Man! He's as drunk as a newt,
But with his face covered black, - he's not taken aback,
He sings "Mammy", and the rest follow suit.

Half past one in the morning, our dad's started yawning,
He's got to be working at six,
A bored audience is watching, while Kenny is botching,
And messing - up easy card tricks,
Still it's time to go now, and dad's got somehow,
To get them all to go home,
And when you're all full of beer, the last thing you'd want to hear,
Is, a tune on his paper and comb!