It was with more bemusement than sadness that I wrote recently about the lawsuit James Brown's daughters had filed against him. After all, they were seeking royalties for songs that became hits when they were 3 and 6, respectively. My feeling was, "Either these are two of the most precocious young 'uns since Mozart, or they haven't a legal leg to stand on."

I was ready to go to the mat, if necessary, willing to testify in court that I'd heard "Git Up Offa That Thang" and danced to it before those girls could write a lick. How dare they call the Godfather of Soul a bad dad!

There is nothing amusing, however, about the latest Godfather-related lawsuit, and if it goes to court, I'll be rooting on the other side.

Bobby Byrd, the man whose gritty bass voice provided a perfect counterbalance to Brown's furiously screeching (at times) vocalizing -- in musical terms, his voice put some "stank" on it -- has sued his lifelong friend in New York Supreme Court. He and his wife, Vicky Byrd, claim the Godfather forged their signatures and ripped them off to the tune of about $5 million.

As Brown himself might say "Good God, that's some tune."

Hearing of the two soulmates fixing to square off in court is like seeing your neighbors, the ones you admired for decades for their perfect marriage, dissolve their relationship. I've never seen anyone who looked and sounded as though they belonged together and had as much fun being together as Brown and Byrd.

You can't listen to any of Brown's best music -- not that "Living In America" junk, when he'd become a caricature of himself -- without hearing Byrd's distinctive voice. You know that gruff sound you hear on "Sex Machine," the voice that barks "Get on up" each time Brown says "Get Up"? That's Byrd. It's also Byrd who, in the same song, implores you to "Shake yo' money maker."

Or how about at the beginning of what might be the first funk song, "Make It Funky"? Byrd's is the voice that asks, "What you gon' play now?" to which James replies, "Bobby, I don't know. But whatsoever I plays, it's got to be funky."

Byrd, who was one of the original Famous Flames -- Brown's first backup group -- even had an R&B hit of his own called, appropriately enough,"I Know You Got Soul (If You Didn't You Wouldn't Be in Here.)" But it was as Brown's verbal and dancing sidekick that Byrd is most revered.

It's possible that James Brown's rediscovery by Madison Avenue and his resulting wealth -- you can hardly turn on your television without hearing his music hawking cars -- has spawned the lawsuits by his blood and his blood brother.

It was, according to a New York Times story, Byrd's family that sponsored Brown for parole from a Georgia prison in the 1950s, where the teenage Godfather had been sentenced to 18 years for stealing a car. Yet it's possible that -- as Byrd's lawyer, Carl Kaminsky says -- "James Brown felt that he owned everything." He's contending that Brown forged Byrd's signature and had millions of dollars in royalty checks sent directly to him.

Brown's attorney says the Godfather still has "great affection" for Byrd and his wife, who also performed with him. I hope they can work out their differences, because it'll be a sad day in Soulsville if Soul Brother No. 1 splits for good with Sidekick No. 1.