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Lyr Add: The Pub Musician's Complaint

Mikey joe 20 Nov 01 - 05:59 AM
Mikey joe 20 Nov 01 - 06:01 AM
InOBU 20 Nov 01 - 07:15 AM
McGrath of Harlow 20 Nov 01 - 08:20 AM
Mikey joe 20 Nov 01 - 08:42 AM
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE PUB MUSICIAN'S COMPLAINT (D Murphy)^^
From: Mikey joe
Date: 20 Nov 01 - 05:59 AM

THE PUB MUSICIAN’S COMPLAINT
(Don Murphy from Cork)

Say two acts of contrition for the poor pub musician.
If I have a son that’s one thing he won’t be.
He has to put up with chancers and trickies and schisters
And publicans dropping ten quid of the fee.
But the worst of them all is that drunken auld know-all,
That musical expert and self-made MC.
So if you’ve any notion to make a commotion
I beg your attention you give now to me.

CURFÁ
So come all you fleadh cowboys. I’ll do things my way.
I’ll do what I want when I sing and I play.
And if this you don’t like, then get up on your bike,
For ‘tis equal to me if you go or you stay.

Now we’re sitting down here and we’re playing a few tunes.
‘Tis the grandest auld session that we’ve played in years.
But as God is my judge there’ll be some ignorant auld moron,
And in no time at all we’ll be all bored to tears
With his “Can’t you play this one” and “Won’t you play that one?
Play some piece of rock and we’ll liven this place.”
Well, says I, “Me auld stock, sure you wouldn’t know rock
If it came up and clocked you straight into the face.”

Now the same individual won’t be there when you start
But he’ll surely be there when you’ve finished your stint,
For he must make a tour of all other locations
And he’ll only come in when he can’t get more drink.
He’ll exhort you to play just to keep the bar open.
He’ll sing an auld dirge without rhythm or rhyme,
Some nonsensical drivel that he can’t remember,
But still he’ll keep singin’ the same auld three lines.

So come all you fleadh cowboys. I’ll do things my way.
I’ll do what I want when I sing and I play.
And if this you don’t like, then get up on your bike,
For ‘tis equal to me if you go or you stay.

Well, every known creature has a female equivalent,
And this one’s no different, the insulting auld cow.
She’s as drunk as a lord and she’ll sing in discord
And she’ll wonder why you can’t accompany her now.
But meself having manners, I’ll say, “I don’t know it,
And beside the time’s gone and we’ll have to go home”
When what I’d like to say is “I don’t want to play,
So would you kindly feck off and leave me alone.”

So come all you fleadh cowboys. I’ll do things my way.
I’ll do what I want when I sing and I play.
And if this you don’t like, then get up on your bike,
For ‘tis equal to me if you go or you stay

So to all you auld messers, give us proper order
When we play a tune or when we sing a song,
For it took dedication and it wasn’t learnt easy
And we’re not making them up as we go along.
If you think you can do it, you’re welcome to try it.
We’ll pack up our bags and we’ll leave you alone.
If not, then shut up and let others enjoy it,
And we’ll all be contented when we go on home.

So come all you fleadh cowboys. I’ll do things my way.
I’ll do what I want when I sing and I play.
And if this you don’t like, then get up on your bike,
For ‘tis equal to me if you go or you stay.

Mj

HTML line breaks added. I also took the liberty of adding some punctuation. --JoeClone, 20-Nov-01.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Pub Musicians Complaint
From: Mikey joe
Date: 20 Nov 01 - 06:01 AM

NAMAJAYSUS
Why do I keep doing that?????

Mj


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE JACK DEMPSEY'S PARTIN' GLASS
From: InOBU
Date: 20 Nov 01 - 07:15 AM

Here is another pub rudeness song, a post I made years ago, before I learned HTML, so I will repost with proper line breaks. --Larry

Another rudeness story and a song, if you sing it, please acknowledge the fact it was written my myself, Larry Otway.

I have to say, it came out of an event where pool players were shouting during singing, and when I invited them to shout and make noise during ceili tunes, and not the singing, it led to a near fist fight. The bar was, at first less than helpful; however, they did come round very nicely and changed the room for the session.

However, after being held out as the aggressor for telling pool players to keep the noise down, I left the bar, returning an hour latter with the following, it can be sung to the tune of England's Motorway ("Remember, lad, he's still your dad though he's working far away."). So in fairness, Jack Dempsey's is trying to be ballad friendly. But the song expresses some modern truths, I hope.
Remember, if you sing this to raise a glass to my dad, a miner, singer and novelist, and a union man, who sang in the most improbable places while alive and sinning.

THE JACK DEMPSEY'S PARTIN' GLASS

Dad why don't you sing a song, the way you used to do,
When granddaddy was still alive, and playin' along with you?
Those songs you sung, I miss so much! I wish I'd learned them all.
It been so long since I heard you sing, I barely can recall.

I'm sorry, son. In this ol' pub, it's just too bloody loud.
They've got a new pool table and they've got a different crowd.
The fellas who stop in here now are the new working class,
A-workin' at computers all day sittin' on their ass.

They aren't good honest miners like your granddaddy and me.
I don't expect that the most of 'em ever toiled upon the sea.
They never fought the workers' fight. They never faced the gun
That the bosses used to try and make us fear and run.

I think their heads are filled with junk, like micro-circuitry.
Ah son, the world has gone to hell. It's just a misery;
And if the pool is not enough, there's the bloody ol' TV.
With so many yaboos now, there's no room for you and me.

And when the yaboos want some fun, they play their bloody noise,
Shovin' all them hard-earned bills in the juke box, brilliant boys!
That's why pub owners love them so, 'cause when they want to dance,
The silver and the paper bills come pouring out their pants.

It was not very long ago, there was a drink for free
For the ones who brought the tunes to a pub like Jack Dempsey;
But now we're treated just the same as the fellas at the bar,
And the loudmouth pool players, they are treated best by far.

And if you ever want to know just how this came to be,
Remember that the unions came from singers just like me;
But union folk don't own the pubs or program the TV.
Corporate culture's meant to keep you dumb as dumb can be.

All the best, Larry


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Subject: Lyr Add:THE PUB MUSICIAN'S COMPLAINT (Don Murphy)
From: McGrath of Harlow
Date: 20 Nov 01 - 08:20 AM

Great stuff. Both of them. Here's Don Murphy's song with the breaks. I hope they're in the right place.

THE PUB MUSICIAN'S COMPLAINT


Say two acts of contrition
for the poor pub musician
If I have a son that's one thing he won't be
He has to put up with chancers
and trickies and schisters
And publicans dropping ten quid of the fee
But the worst of them all
is that drunken auld know all
That musical expert and self made MC
So if you've any notion to make a commotion
I beg your attention you give now to me.

CURFÁ
So come all you fleadh cowboys
I'll do things my way
I'll do what I want when I sing and I play
And if this you don't like
then get up on your bike
For tis equal to me if you go or you stay.

Now we're sitting down here
and we're playing a few tunes
Tis the grandest auld session
that we've played in years
But as God is my judge
there'll be some ignorant auld moron
And in no time at all
we'll be all bored to tears
With his " Can't you play this one"
And "Won't you play that one?"
"Play some piece of rock
and we'll liven this place"
"Well" says I "Me auld stock,
sure you wouldn't know rock,
if it came up and clocked
you straight into the face."

Now the same individual
won't be there when you start
But he'll surely be there
when you've finished your stint
For he must make a tour
of all other locations
And he'll only come in
when he can't get more drink
He'll exhort you to play
just to keep the bar open
He'll sing an auld dirge
without rhythm or rhyme
Some nonsensical drivel
that he can't remember
But still he'll keep singin
the same auld three lines.

So come all you fleadh cowboys
I'll do things my way
I'll do what I want
when I sing and I play
And if this you don't like
then get up on your bike
For tis equal to me
if you go or you stay.

Well every known creature
has a female equivalent
And this one's no different,
the insulting auld cow
She's as drunk as a lord
and she'll sing in discord
And she'll wonder why you
can't accompany her now
But meself having manners I'll say
"I don't know it
And beside the times gone
and we'll have to go home"
When what I'd like to say is
I don't want to play
So would you kindly feck off
and leave me alone."

So come all you fleadh cowboys
I'll do things my way
I'll do what I want
when I sing and I play
And if this you don't like
then get up on your bike
For tis equal to me
if you go or you stay.

So to all you auld messers
give us proper order
when we play a tune
or when we sing a song
For it took dedication
and it wasn't learnt easy
And we're not making them up
as we go along
If you think you can do it,
you're welcome to try it
We'll pack up our bags
and we'll leave you alone
If not then shut up and
let others enjoy it
And we'll all be contented
when we go on home.

So come all you fleadh cowboys
I'll do things my way
I'll do what I want
when I sing and I play
And if this you don't like
then get up on your bike
For tis equal to me
if you go or you stay.

(Too true. And with sessions in England we've got the Public Entertainment hassles as well hovering over us.)


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Pub Musicians Complaint
From: Mikey joe
Date: 20 Nov 01 - 08:42 AM

Thank you McGrath

Much appreciated

Also by the way I forgot to include the Chorus between the 2nd and 3rd verses.

I'm sure ye all spotted that though. I was just seeing if ye were paying attention

Mj


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