Dewey Cheetham and Howe by Tennessee Wayne

You may talk o’ grease and chrome When you’re safe inside your home, An’ you’re hummin’ ‘I Sing About Blue’ in the bath; But when the contract’s dry And the buzzards start to fly, You’ll find a rubber octopus upon your path. Now in Tennessee’s humid clime, Where I worked my ass off all the time Pickin' a guitar made out of a cigar box, Of all the sharp-toothed crew The jaggedest I knew Was the firm of Dewey, Cheetham and Howe. It was ‘Dewey! Cheetham! Howe!’ You cardboard-collared vulture, Dewey, Cheetham and Howe! ‘Hi! Sign the dotted line, ‘Gimme eighty-nine percent, ‘You glass-eyed desert-shuffler, Dewey, Cheetham and Howe.’ The uniform they wore Was a pinstripe made of gore, And a briefcase stuffed with petrified moth-balls, For a tongue of twisted lead And a hole inside the head Was all the legal wisdom they could call. When the band was playin’ blue In a trailer made of glue, Where the heat would make your plastic soul turn black, We shouted for our pay, But they hid the gold away, And they wopped us with a lien across the back. It was ‘Dewey! Cheetham! Howe!’ You paper-shufflin’ demons, Dewey, Cheetham and Howe! ‘You put some suction in it ‘Or I’ll sue you this very minute ‘If you don’t fill up my thimble, Dewey, Cheetham and Howe!’ They would dot and carry none Till the starvin’ day was done; And they didn’t seem to know the use of shame. If we played a chord or three, Or a polyphonic spree, You could bet they’d put a tax upon the name. With a ledger on their back, They would skip with our attack, An’ watch us till the sheriff made ‘Retire,’ An’ for all their hollow hide They were sulfurous inside When they went to burn the masters in the fire! It was ‘Dewey! Cheetham! Howe!’ With the lawyers kickin’ dust-spots on the green. When the rhythm section quit, You could really hear me spit, ‘Litigation-mules Dewey, Cheetham and Howe!’ I shan’t forget the night When I dropped behind the fight With a subpoena where my heart-plate should ’a’ been. I was chokin’ mad with thirst, An’ the men that spied me first Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Dewey, Cheetham and Howe. They lifted up my pen, And they bled me once again, An’ they gave me half-a-pint of liquid-spleen. It was copper-sour and black, Like a knife-wound in the back, But of all the dregs I’ve swallowed, foul and mean, I’m loathest to the one from Dewey, Cheetham and Howe. It was ‘Dewey! Cheetham! Howe!’ ‘’Ere’s a genius with a mortgage on his spleen; ‘’E's chawin’ on the ground, ‘And he’s signin’ what we need: ‘For Mammon’s sake get the paper, Dewey, Cheetham and Howe!’ They carried me away To where a bankruptcy dooli lay, An’ a gavel come an’ drilled the beggar clean. They put me safe inside, An’ just before they lied, ‘I hope you liked your fame,’ sez Dewey, Cheetham and Howe. So I’ll meet ’em later on At the place where they are gone— Where it’s always double taxes and no shoes. They’ll be squattin’ on the coals Shreddin’ up the poor damned souls, And I’ll get a lawsuit in hell from Dewey, Cheetham and Howe! Yes, Dewey! Cheetham! Howe! You polyester-leather Dewey, Cheetham and Howe! Though I’ve flayed you in a song, By the great fast and bulbous throng, You’re meaner men than I am, Dewey, Cheetham and Howe!