Cab City Combo: Cabbie Road Pt. 2

• Burns (Drums)
• Paul Rubin (Vocal)
• Ed Strelecky (Guitar, Bass)

Lyrics:

 We're a novelty band, for cryin out loud!
We have yet to turn a profit, and except for my nephews,
god love 'em, we have no fans to speak of.
 But it amuses us to keep making funny music.  Oh and our
album covers parody famous rock album covers.  No one
seemed to mind, no one even noticed, until CAFEPRESS.COM
sent us a warning.

Suddenly, we had violated the beatles' copyright.
VIOLATED THE GOD-DAMNED BEATLES'S COPYRIGHT!!

 The 14 CDs we sold last year somehow interfered with their
profit-making margin, and we were told to cease and desist.
Parody doesn't count when you're selling something.
  How about that.

Well, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY MY BARKING ASS!!
 The only beatles with any musical chops are dead now, and
Michael Jackson owns the rights to their music anyway.

 What, will our feeble attempt at bringing the Sgt. Peppers
album cover to mind prevent that sick overdressed pop music
has-been from sucking every last red cent out of the moldering
corpse of rock and roll?

They say that there's no such thing as bad publicity, but if
you can't use your album cover, then it's NO PUBLICITY.
What are you supposed to do?  Put out a blank white album?
No wait, THE BEATLES OWN THAT TOO! They own the color white. 
And between Yellow Submarine and Maxwell's Silver Hammer,
It's a good thing Carl Perkins wrote Blue Suede Shoes before
the Beatles got an injunction.

 Since when does doing a parody of a song hurt the original?
It reminds people of the song.  You end up humming the
original after hearing the parody.  Sometimes you go out and
buy the source material after you've been reminded.
Remember OUR LOVE'S IN JEOPARDY?  Weird Al's parody nearly
doubled it's shelf life! 

And say - isn't the whole idea of music really a copyright
infringement of some neanderthal bastard named Ook?
Ever since he first made that rhythmic grunting sound, he owns
music.  Oh wait - he didn't have a lawyer yet. So he doesn't
get any of the gravy.  Too bad, Ook.

And as for us, we're the Band that got Banned - Banned by the Man.

• Burns (Drums)
• Marti J. Cooney (Vocal)
• Paul Rubin (Vocal, Keys)
• Ed Strelecky (Guitar, Bass)

Lyrics:

Remember back during the Crime Show Wars.
It was just after the turn of the millenium,
Cop shows got so popular they spun off others
Until there were too damned many of 'em
Law & Orders, there were more and more and more
Those grisly new yorkers being streetwise
And if you liked the gooeyer stuff
There were all those CSIs

          Law & Order: Traffic Patrol  - Tough guys and asphalt
          CSI: Los Alamos              - Lizards and cobalt
          Law & Order: Court Reporters - Shorthand for days
          CSI: Salem                   - Witches and auto da fe's
          Law & Order: Patent Attorney - A filing cabinet
          CSI: Piscataway              - Have you had it yet?

I couldn't tell the difference between
CSI: Minneapolis and CSI: St. Paul
And Law & Order: Teacher's Lounge was one long shot
Of an empty lounge and the hall
Manhattan got rezoned as one huge set
For filming Law & Order scenes
And The Who got hired as the network house band
To do all of the CSI themes

          CSI: Mayberry                  - With coroner Opie
          Law & Order: Squeegee Guys     - Begging while soapy
          CSI: Mohegan Sun               - Indian gaming
          Law & Order: Sigfried and Roy  - Lions for taming
          CSI: Columbine                 - Ran a week, went flat
          Law & Order: Fast Food Trainee - You want fries with that?

Soon there were so many cop shows
So much legality and crime
You had to tivo two sets at once
And watch them three at a time
The people finally had enough
And put a stop to what they saw
They hung McGruff in effegy
And they passed the Jack Webb law - prohibiting

          Law & Order: Stoolies    - Mooks tellin' lies
          CSI: Cabbage Patch       - Felt and button eyes
          Law & Order: Janitors    - Lysol and a mop
          CSI: Jim's Apartment     - Just a place to flop
          Law & Order: Meter Maids - Handing out the tickets
          CSI: SRO Hotel           - Bedbugs and rickets
          Law & Order: Mannequins  - No movement 'less they fall
          CSI: Disneyland          - It's a small world after all
          Law & Order: Photo Clerk - Film done in a rush
          CSI: Airline Toilet      - Don't forget to flush
          Law & Order: Songwriter  - Writing songs like this
          CSI: Subway Tunnel       - Smells a bit like piss

• Burns (Drums)
• Paul Rubin (Vocal, Keys)
• Ed Strelecky (Guitar, Bass)

Lyrics:

There were three men came out of the west
You've heard their tale I think
They tortured and killed John Barleycorn
And then went for a drink
They thought they had gotten away with the crime
That I'd let my brother's murder lie
My name, you see, is Barleycorn
Sam Barleycorn, P.I.

I heard late one thursday, as smog rolled in
That John had breathed his last
The coroner had quite a tale to tell
Once the autopsy was past
A scythe had been used to cut him at the knees
And then he was bound to a cart
Then rolled, tied and ground between two stones
But that wasn't the gruesome part

The perps used a pitchfork, and crabtree sticks
First they made an unholy vow
They cut little Johnny skin from bone
Said a farmhand in custody now
I staked out a club called The Nut Brown Bowl 
Where the killers spent their nights
And long about six, who should show up there
But the three I had in my sites

I ordered a brandy and turned to the first
He smelled of cheap cologne
I told him my name and the bar cleared out
Leaving him and me alone
He reached for his gat as I reached for mine
It was done before it began
And so I had finished the first of three
As the others turned and ran

And back in the alley behind the bar
Where the gunsels lay in wait
I came out blazing with gun in hand
And so finished up our date
I knew that Lieutenant McNulty would hear
So I gave him a call on the horn
And told him I'd just done his job for him
And avenged John Barleycorn

• Burns (Drums)
• Paul Rubin (Vocal)
• Ed Strelecky (Guitar, Bass)

Lyrics:

My dear children, young and old, each character in this tale is represented differently
by our combo: Peter is represented by punk; the Roommate by reggae; the Bag of
White Powder by surf; the Cop by the drums; Wolf, a recovering addict, by death
metal; the Fly by a sort of Hendrix-influenced-acid-rock fusion; and the Burrito
by the Champs; and now, dear children, here is our story.

Early one morning, Peter came out the door of his east village walk-up and headed towards
Tompkins Square Park.  He was going to get breakfast at the local burrito joint.
Peter's roommate followed quickly out the door.  He was glad to catch up with Peter,
because he hoped that Peter would buy him some breakfast. Now, buzzing around in the
morning sun was a big black fly. When it saw the roommate, it flew down and dive-bombed him
repeatedly.  "What's the problem with this fly, man?" said the roommate.  If the fly had been
able to speak, it would have made a comment on the roommate's personal hygiene.  On they
went, with Peter trying to avoid conversation with the annoying roomie, and the fly trying
to start one. Suddenly something caught Peter's eye.  He noticed a bag of white powder
sitting on the sidewalk.  "Now, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but you
never know what might be in that bag." said Peter, and walked on by.  The roommate
disagreed, and stealthily crept toward the bag looking this way and that.

No sooner had the roommate picked up the bag than Wolf, a local, came hurrying up.
Wolf had been on his way to the methadone clinic when he had lost that very same bag. He
asked Peter and his roommate if they had seen it.  Peter payed no attention to Wolf.
New Yorkers soon learn to ignore scary people and tourists alike.  Peter left his roommate
trying to act nonchalant with Wolf and hurried on down the street to the restaurant.
Once there, Peter ordered a super vegetarian burrito, hold the guacamole.  Outside, Wolf
was trying to go through the roommate's pockets.  Soon, a scuffle ensued, and the bag
of white powder flew into the air.  Wolf, in a frenzy to get his bag back, and keep it
from the roommate and any prying eyes, leapt up and swallowed the bag whole!

And now, this was how things stood.  Peter was waiting for his burrito and watching the
crazed Wolf.  Wolf was too jazzed to go away now and starting harrassing his roommate out
on the sidewalk.  Peter figured that he should help out his roommate or he would never get
his half of the rent.  Then Peter came up with a daring idea.  Buying an order of refried
beans, Peter went out to the sidewalk where Wolf was circling his roommate.  He hurled the
beans at Wolf and they lodged in his already dirty hair.  Although the lunatic didn't notice
the beans, the fly sure did!  It changed course, and circled around Wolf's head.  The
buzzing of the fly caught the attention of Wolf, who tried desperately to swat it, and Peter
and his roommate slipped into the burrito joint.

Wolf now noticed that he was alone on the street and looked around wildly for the others.
Then he saw them in the restaurant and came charging in after them, but he hadn't noticed
the Cop who was finishing his taco grande over by the window. "Is there some problem here?"
asked the Cop.  But Wolf kept flailing his arms wildly, trying to get rid of the fly.
Peter, up at the counter, said, "I saw that guy swallow a bag of white powder a minute ago."
And so the Cop hauled Wolf off to the station, and Peter and his roommate followed along to
watch.

Imagine the procession.  Bringing up the rear, came Peter, happily munching on his burrito.
In front of Peter, playing hacky-sac, was his roommate. He grumbled, "This is all very well,
dude, but I never got anything to eat." Then came the Cop leading Wolf in handcuffs, and
buzzing around Wolf's head, the fly, still trying to get at the beans.  And if you use your
imagination, you can almost see the little bag of white powder dissolving inside Wolf's stomach.