Lisa: Um. Can you hear me in the booth?
Booth: Loud and clear, Lisa
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?
Booth: Sure thing
Lisa: No synthetic sound please. I want all live musicians
Lisa: 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
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
Murphy: Well, that was lovely, Miss Lisa. Very soulful
Lisa: Thank you, Mr. Murphy
Murphy: Now let's play a little blues
(Sax solo fadeout)