Here's "MAKING A MESS OF COMMERCIAL SUCCESS," as I learned it from the Bob Gibson recording:

It was me and Jack working Duval Street, singing our songs by the dock,
When this Teevee director come up lookin' for extras,
Said he needed our pretty faces right down the block.

They were making some kind of commercial, 'bout the beer we like here in Key West,
And all we had to do was just sit on a stool
And do what we really do best.

He said they were paying a C-note, and we really needed the bread,
So we pointed our feet to that bar down the street,
Lit up like a Hollywood set.

There was cameras and cables on every table, and we were grinning from ear to ear.
It was almost like stealin', that's how we were feelin'
When they passed 'round those big mugs of beer.

They gave me the line, "Less Filling!" and Jack got the line, "Great Taste!"
Then they yelled "rehearsal," and we started acting
With beer foam all over our face.

They said "Take One!" and filled up our glasses, stuck a big busty blonde on my lap.
Then I said "Less Filling," and Jack said "Great Taste!
This actin' stuff sure is a snap!"

Well, I thought they would hand us an Oscar, but the director said "beautiful, kids,
But can you give me more soul?" I said "Hell, let 'er roll!"
And they shouted "Take Two!" so we did!

Well, those hot lights, they sure kept us sweatin', and the beer got mixed up with the lines,
And I said "Less Fillin'," Jack said "Getch'ya drunker!"
And the director yelled "Take Twenty-nine!"

Finally, he said "Almost perfect! But can you give me more realism, please?"
So I jumped up and felt up the blonde as she belched, and Jack fell off the stool,
And went down on his knees.

Well, we're now up to Take Eighty-seven, and the director, he's damn close to tears,
And I said "Less Filling," and Jack said "You turkey,
What the hell do you know about beer?"

So I made some remark 'bout his Mama, and his beer mug rammed into my nose,
So I grabbed a camera, and gave him a slam
That took twenty-four stitches to close.

Then the director starts screamin' and screechin', "You're all weirdos and dirtbags down here!
And you may know a lot 'bout tequila and pot,
But Key West don't know Jack about beer!"

Well, with that, all the locals went crazy, grabbing for bottles of booze,
Punchin' and fightin' and tearin' down lights,
And barfin' light beer up on each others' shoes.

They were screaming and squalling, maiming and mauling, punching and stabbing and killing;
Half of 'em shoutin' out "Great Taste,"
And the other half yellin' "Less Filling!"

'Midst the screaming and squalling, maiming and mauling, while the bullets and beer foam sprayed,
Me and Jack and the blonde, we just crawled off unnoticed,
To a quieter, more genteel, cafe.

"So here's to good friends, this night was kinda special," says Jack, ordering three more beers.
And the blonde said "Boys, these buds are for you!"
And we drank to good friends, and we toasted the end,
Of our glorious acting careers.