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Talk Of The Tarn (2014)

by The Bar-Steward Sons of Val Doonican

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1.
Far Far Away 03:39
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
2.
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)
3.
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
4.
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
5.
Nando's 02:53
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
6.
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’
7.
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
8.
Sean Bean 03:38
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
9.
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!
10.
Ring! Ring! 02:45
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!
11.
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
12.
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

about

The Bar-Steward Sons of Val Doonican's fifth studio album was written between the release of Sat'day Neet Fever in February 2013 and early 2014, and was recorded over a four month period between the relentless run of shows during that time.

It is the first Doonicans album that had been completely 'gigged' prior to recording it, and so we were able to see which songs were 'keepers' from crowd responses to them. We had some special guests returning into the studio: long-time friend of the band, Richard Kitson (who has previously collaborated with the Doonicans) came down and added a jaw-dropping rawk electric guitar solo on Track 6.

Also Delmar Doonican (who played on The Big 7" B-Side 'Ace Of Spades') returned too.

It was the last album to feature the 'Mk. II' band line-up of Scott, Alan #1 and Andy. Alan #1 was to leave in October of 2014 and be replaced by Alan #2, and the line-up was expanded to feature Bjorn Doonicansson (who actually joined just before this album's release, despite not performing on it).

This album comes with a bonus PDF of lyrics and sleeve notes in the form of a 'Listener's Guide' (taken from Scott Doonican's book 'Songs In The Key Of Tarn').

credits

released May 25, 2014

Scott Doonican:
Vocals, acoustic & electric guitars, 5-string banjo, bass, mandolin, ukulele, banjolele, piano, keyboards, harmonica, melodica, xylophone, wazoogle, percussion and owt else.

Alan Doonican #1:
Piano accordion, spoken vocal on ‘Road To Somewheer’

Andy Doonican:
12-string acoustic guitar, electric guitar, bouzouki, ukulele

with special guests...

Delmar Doonican:
Banjo on ‘Whole Lotta Rosé’

Richard Kitson:
Lead electric guitar on ‘Whole Lotta Rosé’

Recorded and produced by Scott Doonican between January 9th - April 19th 2014

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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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