The devil went down to Georgia
He was lookin' for books to score:
He'd done eighty that week,
He was startin' to freak,
And he needed to publish more.

When he came on a young man typing
A novel of thunder and blood,
The devil jumped up on a DocuTech
And said "Hey listen, Bud --

"I bet you didn't know it,
But I'm a writer too.
Now you're in luck
'Cause I'll give you a buck;
I've published quite a few.
Now you've writ' a pretty good novel, son,
But give the devil his due,
You grant your soul for seven years
And I will publish you."

The boy said, "My name's Travis,
And it might not be a crime,
But your contract stinks
Like everyone thinks
And you'll get pickled this time."

Now Travis get your keyboard out
And type from morn to night
'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia
And the devil's in the fight.
And if you win all you get's Miranda's dirty look,
But if you lose the devil gets your book.

The devil pulled his webpage up
And gave a little nod,
And fire flew from his fingertips
As he posted "Not a POD."
He posted "Keep your copyright"
And "custom cover design"
Then a chorus of demons howled out
"We edit line by line!"

[instrumental break]

When the devil finished
Travis said, "You talk real swell
But sit down on your disparagement clause,
An' I'll show you writin' hell."

Call me Ishmael, dark and stormy night,
Whan that Aprille, I see as from a height,
Hear Me O Muse, midway in our life's journey,
It was a queer sultry summer, I apprenticed to an attorney.

[instrumental break]

The devil bowed his head
'Cause he knew that he'd been had,
And he trudged back to Maryland
Looking pale and sad.
Travis said, "Devil, come on back,
Any time you're feeling blue,
You'll get pickled every time
'Cause you know I'm better'n you."

He wrote:

Call me Ishmael, dark and stormy night,
Whan that Aprille, I see as from a height,
Hear Me O Muse, midway in our life's journey,
It was a queer sultry summer, I apprenticed to an attorney.