My Father Was An Accordion Player
My father was an accordion player
And rock and roll did pass him by
He set records on the amateur hours
Known as ‘the boy with the fingers that fly’

That was before I ever came around here
Before the Dewar’s, the Jack, and the beer
Now he puts on a black tie and a lapel that’s too wide
And knows that God is now having his jeers

So dream tonight all your sweet dreams
Of the bright lights and the big stage
It get’s hard to ignore a twelve dollar whore
Or the coming of your own middle age
You gotta hold her so tightly she can’t breath
Be thankful she’s waiting home for you
For the old days are gone, except for the songs
And those are all fading too

My mother used to go out with Elvis
And some of his shirts she keeps up in her room
Sometimes I go and try one on, sing one of the King’s songs
In the Ghetto, maybe Blue Moon
I swear to my old man I don’t know the lyrics
I say I can’t sing one of the King’s tunes
He says some pretty, punk kid made it big while he did bar mitzvah gigs
And sweated in the practice rooms
So dream tonight all your sweet dreams
Of the bright lights and the big stage
It get’s hard to ignore that you play on the floor
And the bass player has to pause to change the page
You gotta hold her so tightly she can’t breath
Be thankful she stuck it out with you
For the old days are gone, except for the songs
And those are all fading too

Well, my father is an accordion player
And it’s a truth that some try to refuse
But what they don’t understand is I have seen it firsthand
The accordion play the blues