And if It’s Not True Tom Paxton

Most of my evenings I spend on my own, listening to Spanish guitars
Next year I say Barcelona for me; late nights in dark Spanish bars
Sipping my whisky, then having one more, and smoking my black cigarettes
Asking Dolores to come home with me, knowing I'll have no regrets


And if it's not true, what harm can it do?
I know what I know, I go where I go

Sometimes on Sundays I stroll through the park down by the carousel
Hearing the children ride round in delight to a tune by my old friend Ravel
One that he sang for me one rainy night as I walked with him down by the Seine
How I love Paris, the music, the fun - I go there again and again

And if it's not true, what harm can it do?
I know what I know, I go where I go

And if it's not true, what harm can it do?
I know what I know, I go where I go

Ah, the impressionists up at the Met, I visit whenever I can
It's bonjour to Vincent, bravo to Henri but the one that I love is Cezanne
And over his shoulder I silently watch as the small canvas bursts into flame
We stop at the inn on the way back to town, where the old men drink wine with their games

And if it's not true, what harm can it do?
I know what I know, I go where I go