Internet Collaboration with Wyman Griffith

Bad Bluegrass boys are a breed of their own Play for nearly nothin' no where they won't go Cuz they love them strings, might just make it big Listen while I sing 'Bout the fire at the gig Son, They were hot all right, shoulda heard those chops Sawin' on those strings all night, heard a high e pop Sparks flyin from that string like a hot live wire hit the sawdust floor, someone shouted fire Chorus:Guitars they were scorchin, Mandolin was hot The bass man kept em going, The Banjo tuned a lot Ain't seen nothin' like it, one smokin' hoedown Bad Bluegrass Boys burned the big barn down As smoke filled the hall, things were movin'fast The girl singer cried "Oh Boys I'm trapped" waitin' on her heroes, to save her from her plight Only she knows how brave they were that night How bad bluegrass boys behave, she soon found out Cuz Every instrument was saved, without a doubt singed around the edges, not too hurt I spose But now she sings dressed in asbestos