THE VIOLIN (BLISS) All Tom really knows about his old fiddle is that it was made in southern Germany or Austria in the 1930s, it has 'Paris' stamped on the bridge, and it was bought for him by his father in London in the 1960s. The rest is pure invention BLISS vocal, guitar NAPPER mandolin, vocal (and on the CD: McCONVILLE fiddle)
I was built in a back street in Saltzberg In a dusty and candle-lit room By hands that understood music And timber and varnish and glue With a lifetime of skill in his fingers He stroked the first notes from my strings And my voice sallied out in the darkness And my soul first unfolded its wings
And I was dancing, I was singing, but my story is locked in my soul I can laugh to your tune, Cry for the moon But my silence sings loudest of all, my silence sings loudest of all
The star on the door told the story, And he knew that the blackshirts would call When they dragged him away to the station They snaffled me down off the wall Yes I played for their parties in Paris Where the jackboots kept time to the beat It was polkas and waltzes and mazurkas As all Europe lay bruised at their feet
When the Allies rolled down into Paris The band made a run for the east But with a gun in the hands that had loved me My trooper fired back till the last Then a lad from the Kentucky mountains Nicked his wallet, his watch and then me And the bluegrass was burning for Danville In the barracks and down the NAAFFI
And with the peace I was back on the market, Well, he'd a perfectly good fiddle at home I changed hands for two crates of Marlboro And all over Europe did roam Then one rainy November in London With three silver balls overhead A man noticed the price on my label 'You'll do for my lad' he said | ||