You were standing on the corner of the old neighborhood.
It seems you've joined a ragtime band.
I didn't stop to say hello or toss in some coins.
It was just more than I could stand.
I remember five years and something ago
was the first time the two of you met:
She, in the park, with her fiddle;
You, with your clarinet.
A Yiddish song, a serenade and an old English tune.
You played along on your horn.
It was there in the park on that afternoon
you could say your friendship was born.
Oh won't you play on, play on, play on,
play on your clarinet.
Oh won't you play on, play on, play on,
play on your clarinet.
You lived together for a while and then you moved on
as you both looked for love elsewhere,
and though your dreams changed a lot, as dreams often do,
you knew she would always be there.
Then came a winter just before the birds had flown.
She was taken away, she was gone.
And though my heart always aches when I hear the old songs,
we go on with our lives, we go on.
So won't you play on, play on, play on,
play on your clarinet.
Oh won't you play on, play on, play on,
play on your clarinet.