TALK OF THE TARN

LYRICS

Far Far Away

Lyrics: Scott Doonican

We’ve seen the lights go darn in lots of different cities
We’ve seen our little band supporting Chas ‘n’ Dave
Had every drink that’s on the list

Withart us even getting pissed

But it’s no way to behave
We’ve seen the mornings in with hideous hangovers
We’ve seen the sunset when we played Beautiful Days
I’ve sang the glory of the Tarn

And I’ve got all me friends ararnd
So keep yer glasses raised

And I’m far, far away, with my head up in the clouds
And I’m far, far away, with my feet down in the crowds
Letting loose around the world

Singing songs abart the Tarn… loud and proud

We’ve seen a waiter stop us busking artside Betty’s
And I once played uke upon a mountain top
And every crazy night’s such fun , I’ve loved each and every one

Let’s hope they’ll never stop

And I’m far, far away, with my head up in the clouds
And I’m far, far away, with my feet down in the crowds
Letting loose around the world

Singing songs abart the Tarn… loud and proud

We’ve seen the lights go darn in lots of different cities
While Alan’s super stories carry on and on
And though we’ve travelled miles and miles

We’ve seen as many lovely smiles

And there still seems more to come

And I’m far, far away, with my head up in the clouds
And I’m far, far away, with my feet down in the crowds
Letting loose around the world

Singing songs abart the Tarn… loud and proud

Bye Bye Bieber

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

If people hate me after what I say

Can’t put it off any longer

I’m just gonna have to say it anyway…

You’re the gift that really keeps on giving

When writer’s block kicks in you know you set me free

How lucky for me

Oh, how I’ll miss you when you crash and burn

Sent back to Canada with no hope of return

(Come on, Obama you don’t need the drama now…)

Bye Bye Bieber, Bieber Bye Bye (Bye Bye Bieber, Bieber Bye Bye)

Punching limo drivers and the paparazzi

If you’re retiring please retire from being a chuff

Enough is enough

And while all the little girls are swooning

Somewhere in Munich, well your monkey’s fuming

(He’s better off without you anyway)

Bye Bye Bieber, Bieber Bye Bye (Bye Bye Bieber, Bieber Bye Bye)

You think you’re clever throwing eggs at neighbours

You know a mop bucket is no place for a wee

Bill Clinton agrees

Drink/driving, speeding, smoking marijuana

You spat on fans, at least there’s proof of Karma

(I can’t quite see Anne Frank beliebing now…)

Bye Bye Bieber, Bieber Bye Bye (Bye Bye Bieber, Bieber Bye Bye)

Addicted To t’Pub

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

The lights are off, ‘cos you’re not home

Your mind is not your own
You’re off art, with all your mates

That first pint is all it takes
You won’t sleep ‘til gone three

You knock ‘em back, nip for a wee

You’re on your way, that’s guaranteed

Another drink is all you need

We’d like to think that we’re immune to the stuff, oh yeah
It’s closer to the truth to say that we can’t get enough,

You know we’re gonna have to face it,

We’re addicted to t’pub

Each pint, starts to impede your brain at different speeds
Your mate says “It’s double’s time”

Two Jaegerbombs and you’ll be fine

You’re now quite blind, you can’t be saved

A sweaty kebab is all that you crave
Some donner meat at half two

You don’t mind if you do

We’d like to think that we’re immune to the stuff, oh yeah
It’s closer to the truth to say that we can’t get enough,

You know we’re gonna have to face it,

We’re addicted to t’pub

Might as well face it, you’re addicted to t’pub

Your lights are on, you’ve staggered home

Your legs are not your own
Tomorrow morning will be a farce

When you feel as rough, as a bear’s arse

We’d like to think that we’re immune to the stuff, oh yeah
It’s closer to the truth to say that we can’t get enough,

You know we’re gonna have to face it,

We’re addicted to t’pub

Might as well face it, you’re addicted t’pub

Road To Somewheer

Lyrics: Scott Doonican

Well we know wheer we were goin’,

But we don’t know wheer we’ve bin
‘cos I followed me Sat-Nav,

Then we lost the M18

‘Ar lass has no sense of direction,

So she dun’t know wheer to next

And our future’s uncertain,

Whilst the Tom-Tom redirects

We’re on a road to somewhere,

But me Sat-Nav is shite

Tekkin’ a ride to somewheer,

But nowheer that’s right

We’re on the way to the gig…

‘Ey up! Let’s go!
But this bloody thing has got a mind of its own,

Dun’t you know

We’re on a road to somewhere

But me Tom-Tom is crap

Tekkin’ a drive to somewhere,

That’s clearly not on me map

I wa’ feelin’ alreight this mornin’

Till I got stuck

In a farmer’s field full of cows

With a bull eyeing me up, just me luck

We’re on a road to somewhere

It allus tells you what to do,

But it hasn’t got a clue

I tell thee it’s not right, tell thee it’s not right

Smug bloody voice that’s too polite:

“On the left tek the first right”

I tell thee it’s not right, tell thee it’s not right

Lost in Lundwood, not by choice,

Put me faith in Yoda’s voice

I tell thee it’s not right, tell thee it’s not right

Gonna need somewhere to stay,

‘cos I’m chuffin’ miles away
I tell thee it’s not right, tell thee it’s not right

And I’m hanging off a cliff,

Directions clear as hieroglyphs
I tell thee it’s not right, tell thee it’s not right

We’re on a road to somewheer

Nandos

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White / Elliot Smaje

It was dimly lit by candle

When I took you out for a romantic night of bliss

The waiter poured the Vino Blanco

Should have poured it darn the sink

Because it tasted just… too tart

I looked down at the menu,

And what I saw there, struck terror in my heart

It could’ve been in Esperanto

For all the sense it made, it was all Greek to me

No food should look so mangled

You know just where to shove your Piri-Piri recipe?

I closed my eyes and hoped and prayed

That what they brought was fish n chips with peas

There was summat on me plate last night

The food was shite at Nando’s

I dunno what it was they brought to eat

It smelt like feet at Nando’s

Although it seemed that there was tonnes of choice

I had regrets

If I had to do the same today

I’d say “No way” to Nando’s

I acted smooth like Marlon Brando

In ‘The Wild One’ back in 1953

But my plate looked like John Rambo

Had attacked the lot with an unsharpened machete

And if the chicken was free-range

I’m pretty sure that it was not happy.

There was very little I could do

It tasted poo at Nando’s

It smelt just like a septic tank

The food was rank at Nando’s

And when they brought the bill

My wallet broke into a sweat

And even if I could forget the smell

I’d say to hell with Nando's

Even Abba wouldn’t take a chance

The food was pants at Nando’s

Dun’t know what it was that took us there

I found a hair at Nando’s

And though I try to block that image out

I can’t forget

I wouldn’t recommend the pitta wrap

It tasted poor at Nando's

Whole Lotta Rosé

Lyrics: Scott Doonican

Wanna tell you a story, ‘bout a woman I know

When it comes to suppin’, oh, she steals the show

It ain’t big or clever, she doesn’t try to appall

But give her a carton of French wine

And you will see she’ll sup it AAAALLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!

Never saw a woman, never saw a woman like you
Guzzlin’ darn wine by the box like you’re havin’ a brew
It ain’t no fairy story
When you’re on the booze
And you’re lost in a festival crowd

And you’re having a snooze

She’s done a whole lotta suppin’

A whole lotta suppin’
She’s had whole lotta rosé
A whole lotta rosé
A whole lotta rosé
She’s done a whole lotta suppin’

Bloody hell, you’re neckin’, neckin’ it all darn in one

Sat there in your comfy chair havin’ barrels of fun

All through the night-time
Right around the clock
Oh Lord, it’s no surprise, that lady never stops

She’s done a whole lotta suppin’

A whole lotta suppin’
She’s had whole lotta rosé
A whole lotta rosé
A whole lotta rosé
She’s done a whole lotta suppin’

Snoring In Your Sleep

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

There’s a problem, although you’re in my heart

Reaching a certain pitch, that rings out in the dark

For miles and miles I’m sure that folk could hear

A noise like a foghorn that makes me want to swear

Normally I love every piece of you

But don’t underestimate the things that I will do

The sound is so raw, it’s like a buzz-saw

I’m laid here blinking as I’d almost drifted off

If you don’t stop this, I could leave you breathless

I lift my pillow, ‘cos you drive me up the wall

You’re snoring in your sleep

It’s louder than a big brass band

And it’s clearly not discrete

I wouldn’t mind so much if you’d got cold

I’d rub your chest with vabo-rub

And I’d act more concerned

But think of me in the depths of my despair

‘cos it sounds like I’m laid next to a chuffin’ grizzly bear

Even with those snore-strips, the chance of some kip

Is just about as likely as a National Lottery win

‘cos they close your nose up and leave you breathless

So you cough and splutter

While I scream and shout and ball

‘cos you’re snoring in your sleep

It’s louder than a baby grand

Being jumped on with both feet

There’s times that I just wish that I was counting sheep

But I reckon they’d just bugger off

‘cos you can hear it in the street

I throw the duvet right over me head

I’m wearing ear protectors

Whilst I’m slept in the spare bed

But come sunrise, the early morning light

You’ll rise fresh and eager,

While I’m laid there feeling shite

The sound is shredding, it does me head in

It could hit a seven on the chuffing Richter Scale

If you don’t stop this, I could leave you breathless

I lift my pillow ‘cos it drives me up the wall

You’re snoring in your sleep

It sounds just like a wrecking ball

That has landed on a sheep

It drives me up the wall, ‘cos you’re snoring in your sleep

Your throat is gently in my hands

I could rock you, rock you, rock you, rock you fast asleep

Sean Bean

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

Sean Bean, Sean Bean; a Yorkshire bloke in every scene
Sean Bean, allus stubbly, tough and mean
But you can bet your life, he’s sure die
When you see him on the silver screen

He’s been flogged, hung, maimed and shot in the face
Even had his arms pulled off
Sean Bean, chased by cows off a ravine
Yes you can bet your life, he’s sure to die
When you see him on the silver screen

He’s had more run-ins with the old Grim Reaper
Than he’s had hot meals
Playing parts like Major Sharpe, Boromir and Ned Stark
But he allus chuffin’ pegs it somehow in the final reel

Sean Bean, Sean Bean; funerals he’s had umpteen
Sean Bean, packing deaths in like sardines

Like Spinal Tap’s drummer, he’s sure to be a goner
From the second that he walks on t’screen

Watching Sean Bean, up on the screen
Feighting orcs in Lord Of The Rings
Til one with a longbow, shot him in slow-mo

Now he’s pushing up the daisies

With an arrow in his spleen

Sean Bean, Sean Bean; not a single Oscar to be seen
Sean Bean, Sean Bean, which I think is kind of mean
He dun’t know how to act, but he knows how to die

Bye-bye

There is no chance he’ll live, he was just born to die

Bye-bye

There is no chance he’ll live… just born to die

Bye-bye

You Can’t Judge Our Dad

Lyrics: Andy Doonican / Scott Doonican

You can’t judge our knitwear ‘cos we allus look alreight

You can’t stop singing with us, or the tapping of your feet

We may look like we are strangers, but we actually are brothers

But you can’t judge our Dad, ‘cos we’ve got different mothers

Oh, how’s it go? Sing ‘Ey up! and Let’s go!

Well we look like we are crooners, but we’re only music lovers

But you can’t judge our Dad, ‘cos we’ve got different mothers!

You can’t judge Andy, by the stylish way he plays

You can’t judge Alan, by the crazy things he says

Our parentage is questionable, but one thing we’ve discovered is

You can’t judge our Dad, ‘cos we’ve got different mothers!

Better than Quo! We sing ‘Ey up! Let’s go!

Well we’ll play you all our Dooni-hits one after another

But you can’t judge our Dad, ‘cos we’ve got different mothers!

You can’t judge a fish, without eating it with chips

And you can’t eat chips, without a lifetime on the hips

You can’t be just as sexy, unless you’re a knitwear lover

And you can’t judge our Dad, ‘cos we’ve got different mothers!

Oh, how’s it go? Say ‘Ey up! Let’s go!

Well we’re here to rock you gently, and we do not give a bugger

‘cos you can’t judge our Dad, ‘cos we’ve got different mothers!

Ring! Ring!

Lyrics: Scott Doonican

Watching telly sat at home, when I hear the telephone

So I leave my seat and go to get the receiver

It’s a cheery Geordie voice, who isn’t in his job by choice

But he’s trying to ascertain if I’m the home owner

And as me eyes roll to the sky, he asks if I’ve bought PPI

Oh no! Ring! Ring! Do I sound like I like a cold call?

Ring! Ring! While I rant and I rave and I bawl

Ring! Ring! Feel like smashing me phone off the wall

And as I sit there and shout impatiently

While you just carry on obliviously

So Ring! Ring! Me patience is getting quite small

So Ring! Ring! Yes, you’re driving me right up the wall

So Ring! Ring! Why on Earth are you still bangin’ on?

So Ring! Ring! Do you not understand? Bugger off!

Oh no! Me laptop’s broken down,

The screen’s died, I sigh and frown

So I bite the bullet and call the support centre number

Where a robot voice tells me, options 1 to 23

Then I’m left on hold for what seems to be forever

Playing ‘My Heart Will Go On’

Till I could murder Celine Dion

Ring! Ring! Two hours to answer my call

Ring! Ring! And it’s clear now I’m through to Nepal

Ring! Ring! Is there someone to translate at all?

And just when I think all hope is gone

I’m asked if I’ve switched it off and on

So Ring! Ring! Me patience is getting quite small

So Ring! Ring! Yes, you’re driving me right up the wall

So Ring! Ring! There’s no way that your name is Paul

So Ring! Ring! Then you hang up on me after all!

The Bar Of The Old No. 7
Lyrics: Chris Sammon

There’s a lass some lads know dressed in glitter and gold
At the bar of the Old No. 7
As she stands there unsure, fancies whisky liqueur
Checks the optics to spot what she came for
Ooh, at the bar of the Old No. 7

With her glass in her hand, seems she’s hatching a plan
Keep your eyes down in case you’re her target
Oh my word don't look now, she’s got an arse like a cow
That’s been fed and then led to the market
Ooh, she’s got thighs of thunder

There’s a feeling I’ve got, like I’m abart to be shot
And my spirit is there for the crushing
And before me I see, things that terrify me
While the whole pub’s stood laughing and looking
Ooh, she’s got thighs of thunder

And it’s whispered that soon she'll bend me like a spoon
In the hands of that man Yuri Geller
And I’m trapped by the door and then pinned to the wall
Christ, she’s strong she’s got a grip like a fella!

I felt a bustle darn in me hedgerow and I’m alarmed now
She’s up for taking me and breaking me
There’s only one way this’ll end and it’s not a good one
There’s no time to change the road I’m on
In her thighs of thunder

My head is drumming; don’t want to go,

In case you dun’t know
She’s dragged me out by the wheelie bins
Dear lady I can feel the wind blow, and it won’t grow
Oh Christ, she’s going to duff me in!

The punters peer in from the road,

At this lad without his clothes
And the lady wants to know

Why there’s not that much to show
I guess it’s not so rock and roll,

‘cos in the winter it’s damn cold
And the beer has taken hold,

And if you listen very hard
You’ll hear the laughter in the yard,

At the bar of the Old No. 7