Kiss My ASCAP

Open mic at Oscar's to an audience of eight
Songwrite out from the U of Dub, as a singer, she looked great
Been performin' for about a month, she strummed with all her might
Closed with a song called "Feelings"--we clapped to be polite

But one of the eight was an ASCAP rep, he stayed after the show
Looked old Oscar right in the eye and opened a briefcase slow
Said you gotta pay to play our stuff, this place seats sixty-five
Write me a check for fifty bucks, you'll pay if you are wise

Fifty Bucks! old Oscar cried -- that's twice what I netted
ASCAP said with an easy smile, I guess you just don't get it
I didn't come to negotiate, and we don't mess around
Our legal beagle's growlin' now and the judge gonna shut you down, So

YOU CAN KISS OUR ASCAP, DON'T MESS WITH BMI
THEM GREEDY CATS FROM NASHVILLE GONNA GET YOU IF YOU TRY
YOU CAN GET THE BEST OF THE IRS OR THE BOYS FROM THE CIA
BUT IF YOU DON'T KISS OUR ASCAP, YOU'RE GONNA RUE THE DAY

A fiddler name of Henry, the pride of the great Northwest
Built a tape of string-band tunes, the kind that he does best
Thought to make some pocket change when the DJ s played his tape
So he cast his lot with ASCAP, that was his big mistake

They pledged performance royalties, Hank felt just like a dunce
He camped out by the mailbox, but the postman rang not once
So he called the boys at ASCAP, they said "You can check our books"
Ain't nothing' left for you Hank, we gave it to Garth Brooks, and

	CHORUS

A barkeep over in South Park was tuned to the Seahawk's game
But the half-back couldn't make his bail and the quarterback was lame
Time to try some baseball, he fiddled with the dial
Up jumped a suit from ASCAP, said "GOTCHA" with a smile

He said now ASCAP sent me here, enforcement is our game
And you done played our music, for which you gotta pay
You turned the dial too slowly, boy, I guess it's your bad luck
I caught six bars of Hound Dog and you owe us fifty bucks

Now the barkeep, he didn't waste a word upon that ASCAP creep
Pulled a .44 from behind the bar, started shootin' at his feet
And he smiled at Mr. ASCAP with his feet high in the air
Said "Cover's fifty bucks a dance, I guess we'll call it square"

AND WE WON'T KISS YOUR ASCAP, TO HELL WITH BMI
WE'LL KICK IT BACK TO NASHVILLE OR KNOW THE REASON WHY
WE'LL PAY OUR DEBT TO THE IRS, WE'LL LIE TO THE CIA
AND WE WON'T KISS YOUR ASCAP, WE AIN'T MADE THAT WAY
NO, WE WON'T KISS YOUR ASCAP, UNTIL OUR DIEING DAY