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{Can you hear me in the booth? Loud and clear, Lisa Oh, good, thank you, sir For letting me be in a real studio It's a genuine thrill, sir} {Could I trouble you with one request? Sure thing, no synthetic sound, please I want all live musicians} Them that's got, shall get Them that's not, shall lose So the Bible says and it still is news Mama mayhem, Papa mayhem God bless the child that's got his own That's got his own It's the strong, get smart While the weak ones fade And if I get stumped They'll never make the grade Mama mayhem, Papa mayhem God bless the child that's got his own That's got his own When you've got money You've got lots of friends Crowded 'round the door But when it's gone And all else find an ends Well, they don't come round no more Which relations give Crust of bread and such You can help yourself But don't take too much Mama mayhem, Papa mayhem God bless the child that's got his own That's got his own {Well that was lovely, Miss Lisa, very soulful Thank you, Mr. Murphy Now, let's play a little blues}