Luyện nghe bài hát Old Doc Brown

(Spoken)
He was an old country doctor
In a little Kentucky
Fame and had passed him by
But we never saw him
As day by day in his way
He us one and all
Many a patient to pay
doc's fees were small

But Old Doc Brown seem to mind
He didn't even send out
His only ambition was to
It seems, sure for aches and ills
Why half the folks in my home town
Yes, I'm one of too
Were in by Old Doc Brown
When we our first debut

Tho' he needed his and there were times
he'd receive a fee
He'd pass it on to poor soul
That it worse than he
But when the depression hit our
And drained meager purse
The income of Old Doc Brown
Just from bad to worse

He had to sell all of his
Why, he couldn't pay his office rent
So to a room over a Livery stable
Doc Brown and his went
On the post at the curb below
To his wares
He a little sign that read
'Doc has moved upstairs'

he kept on helpin' folks get well
And his heart was just gold
But anyone with eyes see
That Doc was old
And then one day he didn't even
When they knocked upon his
Old Doc Brown was a-lyin'
But his soul - was no

They found him there in an old black
And on his face was a smile of
But all the money they could on him
Was a quarter and a copper
So they up his ledger
And what they saw gave their a pull
Beside each debtor's
Old Doc had (*writ) these words, in full'

It looked like the potter's for Doc
That caused us some
'Til 'membered the family graveyard
Out on the farm
Old doc had brought six of kids
And Simmons was a grateful
He said, Doc's like one of the family
So, you can let him with us

Old Doc have had a funeral
Fine for a king
a ghastly joke that our town was broke
And no one could give a
'Cept Jones, the
He did mighty
Donatin' an old iron
he'd never been able to sell

And the procession, it wasn't much
For and pomp and style
But wagon loads of mourners
They stretched out for than a mile
And we breathed a prayer as we laid him
To rest the sod
This man who'd earned the
To be on terms with God

His grave was with flowers
But not the floral shops
roses and things from folks' garden
And one or two dandelion
For the depression had hit our little town
And man carried a load
So just picked the wildflowers
As passed along the road

We wanted to him a monument
figured we owed him one
'Cause he'd made our town a better
For all the good he'd
But monuments money
So, we did the best we
And on his grave we placed
A - of wood

We pulled up that old post
Where Doc had his sign
And we it white and to all of us
It certainly did fine
Now the rains and snow has washed
Our trimmings of paint
And there ain't nothin' but Doc's own sign
And that is faint

Still, southern breezes and flickering stars
our sleeping town
And the pale shines through Kentucky pines
On the grave of Old Doc
You can see that old hitchin' post
As if an answer to our
Mutely telling the whole wide
Doc has moved up stairs