(Spoken) He was just an old country doctor In a little Kentucky town Fame and fortune had passed him by But we never saw him frown As day by day in his kindly way He served us one and all Many a patient forgot to pay Altho docs fees were small But Old Doc Brown didnt seem to mind He didnt even send out bills His only ambition was to find It seems, sure cures for aches and ills Why nearly half the folks in my home town Yes, Im one of them too Were ushered in by Old Doc Brown When we made our first debut Tho he needed his dimes and there were times That hed receive a fee Hed pass it on to some poor soul That needed it worse than he But when the depression hit our town And drained each meager purse The scanty income of Old Doc Brown Just went from bad to worse He had to sell all of his furniture Why, he couldnt even pay his office rent So to a dusty room over a Livery stable Doc Brown and his practice went On the hitchin post at the curb below To advertise his wares He nailed a little sign that read Doc Brown has moved upstairs There he kept on helpin folks get well And his heart was just pure gold But anyone with eyes could see That Doc was gettin old And then one day he didnt even answer When they knocked upon his door Old Doc Brown was a-lyin down But his soul - was no more They found him there in an old black suit And on his face was a smile of content But all the money they could find on him Was a quarter and a copper cent So they opened up his ledger And what they saw gave their hearts a pull Beside each debtors name Old Doc had (*writ) these words, Paid in full It looked like the potters field for Doc That caused us some alarm Til someone membered the family graveyard Out on the Simmons farm Old doc had brought six of their kids And Simmons was a grateful cuss He said, Docs been like one of the family So, you can let him sleep with us Old Doc should have had a funeral Fine enough for a king Its a ghastly joke that our town was broke And no one could give a thing Cept Jones, the undertaker He did mighty well Donatin an old iron casket That hed never been able to sell And the funeral procession, it wasnt much For grace and pomp and style But those wagon loads of mourners They stretched out for more than a mile And we breathed a prayer as we laid him there To rest beneath the sod This man whod earned the right To be on speaking terms with God His grave was covered with flowers But not from the floral shops Just roses and things from folks garden And one or two dandelion pots For the depression had hit our little town hard And each man carried a load So some just picked the wildflowers As they passed along the road We wanted to give him a monument Kinda figured we owed him one Cause hed made our town a better place For all the good hed done But monuments cost money So, we did the best we could And on his grave we gently placed A monument - of wood We pulled up that old hitchin post Where Doc had nailed his sign And we painted it white and to all of us It certainly did look fine Now the rains and snow has washed away Our white trimmings of paint And there aint nothin left but Docs own sign And that is gettin faint Still, when southern breezes and flickering stars Caress our sleeping town And the pale moon shines through Kentucky pines On the grave of Old Doc Brown You can still see that old hitchin post As if an answer to our prayers Mutely telling the whole wide world Doc Brown has moved up stairs Hank Snow “Old Doc Brown”
Posted on: Tue, 19 Nov 2013 00:54:58 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015