Bill Anderson - Ol' Doc Brown lyric
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(arr. Bill Anderson)
He was just and old country doctor
In a small Georgia 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
Although Doc's fees were small.
But ol' Doc Brown didn't seem to mind
In fact he didn't even send out bills
His only ambition it seemed was to find
Sure cures for aches and ills.
Why nearly half the folks
In our home town
And yes, I'm one of them too
Were ushered in by ol' Doc Brown.
When we made our first debaut ah, he needed his dimes
And there were times he'd receive a fee
But he would pass it on to some poor soul
That he said needed it worse than he.
So when hard times hit our town
And drained each meager purse
The scanty income of Ol' Doc Brown
Just went from bad to worse.
He had to sell his furniture
Why he couldn't even pay his office rent
And so to an old dusty room over a liberty stable
Ol' Doc Brown and his satchel went.
On the hitching post at the curb below
To advertise his wares
He nailed up a little sign that read
"Doc Brown has moved up stairs."
And there he kept on helping people get well
And his heart was pure gold
But anyone with eyes could see
That Doc was getting old.
Then one day he didn't even answer
When they knocked upon his door
Ol' Doc Brown was lying down
But his life was no more.
They found him there in his old black suit
But on his face was a smile of contentment
But all the money they could find on him
Was a quarter and one ol' copper cent.
So they opened up his ledger
And what they saw gave their hearts a pull
'Cause beside each debtor's name
Ol' Doc had written "Paid in full."
Well, it looked like the potter's field for Doc
And that caused us some alarm
'Till some one remembered the family graveyard
Out on the Simmon's farm.
Ol' Doc had brought six of their kids into this world
And Simmons was a grateful cuss
He said "Doc been like one of the family
So he can sleep with us."
Ol' Doc Brown 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.
Except Jones the undertaker
He did mighty well
He donated an old iron casket
He'd never been able to sell.
And the funeral procession
Well, it wasn't much for grace and pomp and style
But those wagonloads 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 had earned the right
To be on speaking terms with God.
His grave was covered with flowers
But not from the floral shop
Just roses and things from folks gardens
And one or two dandelion tops.
For time had hit our town hard
And each man carried a load
So some just picked the wild flowers
As they passed along the road.
We wanted to give Doc a monument
We kind of figured we owed him one
'Cause he had made our town a better place
For all the good he had done.
But monuments cost money
So we just did the best we could
And on his grave we just placed
A monument of wood.
We pulled up that old hitching post
Where Doc had nailed his sign
We painted it white and to all of us
It surely did look fine.
Now the rains and snow has washed away
Our white trimmings of paint
And there ain't nothing left but Doc's old sign
And even that's getting faint.
And still when southern breezes
And twinkling stars cross our little town
And pail moonlight shines through Georgia pines
On the grave of Ol' Doc Brown.
You can still see that old hitching post
As if in answer to our prayers
Proudly telling the whole wide world
Doc Brown has moved up stairs...
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