(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' doc's fees were small
But Old Doc Brown didn't seem to mind He didn't 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, I'm 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 he'd receive a fee He'd 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 couldn't 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 didn't 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 debtor's name Old Doc had (*writ) these words, 'Paid in full'
It looked like the potter's 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, Doc's 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 It's 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 he'd never been able to sell
And the funeral procession, it wasn't 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 who'd 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 he'd made our town a better place For all the good he'd 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 ain't nothin' left but Doc's 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 stairsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
