On the folk scene years ago – all you really had to know
Was how to stick your finger in your ear
We knew how to judge a song - it was good if it was long
I had one that lasted for a year
Once people came in droves
To hear my Matty Groves
Now they’ve abandoned me
{because.....}
I have no folk degree
Chorus: Smarty Arti Farti has spoilt my little party
Smarty Arty Farti and all the glitterati
They’ve all got a folk degree I have got depression
Now my folkie world’s become an all degree profession
Smarti Art Farti plays the same old tune a thousand ways
He gets all the praise and adoration
Scrapes his fiddle - plucks his harp – thinks he’s bloody Cecil Sharp
I feel like a fossilised crustacean
My poop has lost its pop
They’ve given me the chop
There’s no more gigs for me
{because.....}
I have no folk degree
Chorus:
There’s man called Shanty Stan – smart arse with a business plan
He wears fancy dress when when he goes singing
Sticks an eye patch on one eye – wears a Craster Kipper tie
People think he’s great – they think I’m “minging”
He looks like Johnny Depp
While I look like Old Shep {..and you know what happened to him...}
He looks down on me
{because...}
I have no folk degree
Chorus
If you go down old Skid Row - you’ll see folkies that you know
Sleeping in their gig bags to save money
Folk police fly in a rage when they beg outside The Sage
Glitterati bees protect their honey
It’s such a sorry sight sight
Old folkies in the night
Sing 5-part har-mon-y
{but}
They have no folk degree
Chorus:
Go to any Gateshead bar – you’ll see some old folkie star
Singing with a finger in his ear
He gets lucky now & then - when one of those Gateshead men
Drenches him with what’s left of his beer
It’s better than you think
He gets to lick the drink
He can’t expect a fee
{because...}
He has no folk degree
The end :
Skiddle-I-dankie doodle dah
Skiddle-I- dankie dee
If you want to be a star
Then get a folk degree
