by Benny Hill 'Twas market day in the village, And the crowds 'round the stalls was quite dense, But what caught my eye was a stall piled high With musical instruments. And up to the stall came a little old man, His clothes was all tattered and thin, But his face come alight when his eyeballs caught sight Of a beautiful old violin. He held it up to the dealer saying, "How much is this one then?" He replied, "That's a Stradivarius, my man, That'll cost you four pound ten." "I can't afford that," sighed the little old man And a lump come into my throat, I was feeling quite flush, and so I stuffed in his hand A brand new ten-shilling note. A crowd had gathered behind us So I quickly went 'round with his hat, When I finished I found I'd collected five pounds So I took my ten shillings back. Well we gave the dealer the money And the old man so shabbily dressed, Picked up the violin, stuck it under his chin And he played like a man possessed. He played concertos, cantatas and fugues, And polkas and waltzes too, By composers like Johann Sebastian Bach... To mention only a few. He played waltzes by Strauss and Die Fledermaus, And Tales From the Vienna Wood, Then Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto, But he didn't play that quite so good. "Well done!" cried the crowd when he finished And they gently patted his head, But the excitement was too much for the little old man Who promptly fell down dead. Well we gave the dealer his fiddle And we took back our four pound ten, Then we picked up the old man and we laid him to rest In the cemetery down by the glen. But sometimes at night when the moon do shine bright, If I should happen to stray, Up over the hill, it seems that still I can hear the old man play. Yes the words of that popular song rings true, For though the old man is gone, Yes, although the song is ended, The melody lingers on.
The end