Murder In The Music Room

What about it got an idea for the lyric yet? Play that melody once more, Dick. I think I've got some. It's of our time. Okay, okay, hold it. How's this? Love won't call again. I won't call again.

Till I'm eating it. Hey, that's not bad. It never was bad. Well, that tune of yours sounds like 800 others. I'd expect me to get any kind of original idea for a lyric. Give me something to work.

Well, Phil, we've been fighting like this for months. We haven't written a hit tune in months. We've got to do something. You want to break up the team? I don't want it, but we both seem to be written out.

Those last songs we did, well if Joe Hendricks wasn't our friend as well as our music publisher, he'd have thrown him out in the alley. You put together an awful lot of bad lyrics for that group.

So it's my fault, the lyrics were bad. Because I couldn't save those tired tunes if you're just my fault. I'll put you right in the know. That would be a fine answer to our problem.

With at least give me some satisfaction. Dick I'm warning, I don't like violence. But I'm getting to a point where I'm gonna forget how much I hate violence, and remember only how much I dislike you.

And now meet Dick Comer as Boston Boy. Blackie, enemy to those who make him an enemy, friend to those who have no friend. Of course I know Joe Hendrix, Mary, but I won't know him long if I ask him to publish the song of your cousin.

Oh, well, maybe it isn't so bad, Blackie. Mary, dear Mary, everybody in this country at some time or that's an idea you can write a song. This happens to be the time that their thought struck your cousin.