Chords for Old Doc Brown - Hank Snow

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He was just an old country doctor in a little Kentucky town.
Fame and fortune had passed him by, but we never saw him proud.
_ As day by [C#] day in his kindly way he served us one and all.
Many a patient forgot to pay, although doc's fees were small.
_ But old Doc Brown didn't seem to mind.
He [B] didn't even send out bills.
[F#] His only ambition was to find, it seemed, sure cures for aches and ills.
[C#] Why nearly half the folks in my hometown, yes, I'm [G#] one of them too, were ushered [G#m] in
by old [C#] Doc Brown when we made our first debut.
_ Though 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 [C#m] than he.
[G#] _ So when the Depression hit our town and drained each mig of purse, the scanty income of old
Doc Brown just went from bad to worse.
He had to sell all of [F#] his furniture while [C#] he couldn't even pay his office rent.
So to a dusty room over a livery stable, Doc Brown and his satchel went.
_ On the hitch and [Fm] post at the curb below to [F] advertise his [F#] wares, he nailed a little sign
that read, Doc Brown has moved upstairs.
[C#] There he kept on helping folks get well, and his [G#] heart was just pure gold.
But [C#] anyone with eyes could see the Doc was getting old.
_ And then one day he didn't even answer when they knocked upon his door.
No Doc Brown was a-lying down, but his soul [G#] was no more.
_ They found him there in that old black suit, and on his face was a smile of content.
He was a man, but all the money [D#m] they could find in [G#] him was a quarter and a copper cent. _
[C#] So they opened up his ledger, and what they saw gave their hearts a pull.
Beside each debtor's name, old Doc had written these words, paid in full.
It looked like the potters' [F#] field for Doc.
That caused us some alarms.
So someone membered the family graveyard out on the Simmons [C#] farm.
Old Doc had [G#] brought six of their children, and Simmons was a great [C#] little cuss.
He said, Doc's been like one of the families, so you can let him sleep with us.
Old Doc should have had a funeral fine enough [F#] for a king.
It's [C#] a ghastly joke that our [G#] town was broke and no one could give a thing.
Except Jones the undertaker, he did mighty well,
donating an old iron casket that he'd never been [D#m] able to sell.
[G#] And the funeral procession, it wasn't [F#] much for [C#] grace and pomp and style,
but those wagon loads of mourners, they stretched out for more than a mile.
_ And we breathed a [G] prayer as we laid him there to [G#m] rest beneath the sod,
[F#] this man who'd earned the right to be on speaking terms with God.
His grave was covered with [C#] flowers, but not from the floral shops,
[G#] just roses and things from folks' gardens and one [C#] or two dandelion tops.
For the depression had hit our little town hard, and each man carried a load.
So some just picked the [A#m] wildflowers as they passed [C#] along the road.
[G#] We wanted to give him a monument, kind of figured we owed him one,
because he'd made our town a better place for all the good he'd done.
[D#m] [G#] But monuments cost money, so we did the best [C#] we could.
And on his grave we gently placed a monument of wood.
We pulled up that old hitching post where Doc had [Fm] nailed his sign,
and we painted it white, and to all of [F#] us it certainly did look fine.
Now the rains and snows have washed away our white trimmings of paint,
[C#] and there ain't nothing left but Doc's own sign, and [G#] that is getting faint. _
[C#] Still when southern breezes and twinkling stars caress our sleeping town,
and the pale moon shines through Kentucky pines on the grave of old Doc Brown,
you can [A#m] still see that old hitching post [F#] as if an answer to our prayers,
beautifully telling the whole wide world, [C#] Doc Brown has moved upstairs.
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