Jeff B

Second verse, as remembered at this juncture some 30 years after I used to sing it:

Now to Tin Pan Alley he took my song,
And there he chanced to meet a publisher
Who cleaned it up, and gave my song a beat
And now they rock and now they roll
And now they pay a fee to that nice young man with the microphone
And nobody thinks of me.

There is third verse, but I've never quite been able to remember it properly. IIRC it finishes up with something along the lines of:

Don't ever trust a roving man, whoever he may be
With his hand upon the microphone and not upon your knee