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.

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.

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.

Copyright Stainer & Bell, Ltd.
RG