Man with a Microphone
(Sydney Carter)
As I went out one morning, I was singing a country song.
I met a man with a microphone, and Oh he did me wrong.
He led me up a grassy bank, and whipping out a tape,
He took my country ditty down before I could escape.
cho: With a whack for Peter and Paul and Mary
And burly old ivy, too.
To Tin Pan Alley he took my song and there he happened to meet
A publisher who cleaned it up and gave the tune a beat;
And now it's on the Hoot Parade, and now they pay a fee
To the false young man with a microphone, and nobody thinks of me.
cho:
I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel, I'll buy a steel guitar,
I'll take a ticket to London town, and in a coffee bar
I'll sing until my name is known, and when I'm on TV
I'll tell the world of the false young man, and what he did to me.
cho:
So all you pretty country girls that want to sport and play
Be careful of your copyright, that's all they want today.
And never trust a rovin' man, whoever he may be,
If his hand is on the microphone, and not upon your knee.
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Man with a Microphone
(Sydney Carter)
As I went out one morning, I was singing a country song.
I met a man with a microphone, and Oh he did me wrong.
He led me up a grassy bank, and whipping out a tape,
He took my country ditty down before I could escape.
cho: With a whack for Peter and Paul and Mary
And burly old ivy, too.
To Tin Pan Alley he took my song and there he happened to meet
A publisher who cleaned it up and gave the tune a beat;
And now it's on the Hoot Parade, and now they pay a fee
To the false young man with a microphone, and nobody thinks of me.
cho:
I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel, I'll buy a steel guitar,
I'll take a ticket to London town, and in a coffee bar
I'll sing until my name is known, and when I'm on TV
I'll tell the world of the false young man, and what he did to me.
cho:
So all you pretty country girls that want to sport and play
Be careful of your copyright, that's all they want today.
And never trust a rovin' man, whoever he may be,
If his hand is on the microphone, and not upon your knee.
(Sydney Carter)
As I went out one morning, I was singing a country song.
I met a man with a microphone, and Oh he did me wrong.
He led me up a grassy bank, and whipping out a tape,
He took my country ditty down before I could escape.
cho: With a whack for Peter and Paul and Mary
And burly old ivy, too.
To Tin Pan Alley he took my song and there he happened to meet
A publisher who cleaned it up and gave the tune a beat;
And now it's on the Hoot Parade, and now they pay a fee
To the false young man with a microphone, and nobody thinks of me.
cho:
I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel, I'll buy a steel guitar,
I'll take a ticket to London town, and in a coffee bar
I'll sing until my name is known, and when I'm on TV
I'll tell the world of the false young man, and what he did to me.
cho:
So all you pretty country girls that want to sport and play
Be careful of your copyright, that's all they want today.
And never trust a rovin' man, whoever he may be,
If his hand is on the microphone, and not upon your knee.