1. |
Far Far Away
03:39
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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
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2. |
Bye Bye Bieber
03:10
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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)
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)
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)
Bye Bye Bieber, Bieber Bye Bye (Bye Bye Bieber, Bieber Bye Bye)
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3. |
Addicted To t'Pub
04:20
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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
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4. |
Road To Somewheer
02:44
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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
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5. |
Nando's
02:53
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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
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6. |
Whole Lotta Rosé
05:30
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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’
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7. |
Snoring In Your Sleep
03:48
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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
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8. |
Sean Bean
03:38
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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
There is no chance he’ll live… just born to die
There is no chance he’ll live… just born to die
There is no chance he’ll live… just born to die
Bye-bye
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9. |
You Can't Judge Our Dad
02:55
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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!
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10. |
Ring! Ring!
02:45
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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!
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11. |
The Bar Of The Old No. 7
05:15
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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
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12. |
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Written by Freddie Mercury
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord, what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody - ooh somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
I work hard every day of my life
I work 'til I ache in my bones
At the end - at the end of the day)
I take home my hard earned pay all on my own
I get down on my knees
And I start to pray
'Til the tears run down from my eyes
Lord, somebody, ooh somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Everyday I try and I try and I try
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm going crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Ah, got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe in
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Oh, Lord
Ooh somebody, ooh somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat
I'm OK, I'm alright
I ain't gonna face no defeat
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
One day I'm gonna be free, Lord!
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love love love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Somebody somebody somebody somebody
Somebody find me
Somebody find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Find me somebody, somebody somebody, somebody to love
Find me, find me, find me, find me, find me
Ooh, somebody to love
Find me, find me, find me somebody to love
Anybody, anywhere, anybody find me somebody to love love love!
Somebody find me, find me love
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The Bar-Steward Sons of Val Doonican UK
Hailing from Barnsley, The Bar-Steward Sons of Val Doonican are Britain's hardest working comedy band. Having played over 1,100 anarchic live shows to date, they are instantly recognisable for their immaculate hair and their stylish dress-sense. The have been critically acclaimed to be the UK festival scene's undisputed Kings of Parody. ... more
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