| Song | Old Doc Brown |
| Artist | Johnny Cash |
| Album | The Real...Johnny Cash: The Ultimate Johnny Cash Collection |
| 作词 : Foley | |
| He was just an old country doctor | |
| In a little country town | |
| Fame and fortune had passed him by | |
| Though we never saw him frown | |
| As day by day in his kindly way | |
| He'd serve us one and all | |
| Many a patient forgot to pay | |
| Although Doc's fees were small | |
| Though he needed his dimes and there were | |
| Times that he'd receive a fee | |
| He'd pass it onto some poor soul | |
| That needed it worse than he | |
| He had to sell his furniture | |
| Couldn't pay his office rent | |
| So to a dusty room over a livery stable | |
| Doc Brown and his satchel went | |
| And on the hitchin' post at the kerb below | |
| To advertise his wares | |
| He nailed a little sign that read"Doc Brown has moved upstairs" | |
| And one day he didn't answer | |
| When they knocked upon his door | |
| Old Doc Brown was layin' down | |
| But his soul was no more | |
| They found him there in that old black suit | |
| 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 | |
| DocHad write these words, "Paid in full" | |
| Old Doc should had | |
| A funeral fine enough for a king | |
| It's a ghastly joke our town was broke | |
| And no one could give a thing' | |
| Cept Jones an undertaker | |
| He did mighty well | |
| Donated an old iron casket | |
| He had never been able to sell | |
| And the funeral procession | |
| It wasn't much for grace and pomp and the style | |
| But those wagon loads of mourners | |
| They stretched out for more than a mile | |
| We wanted to give him a monument | |
| We kinda figured we owed him one' | |
| Cause he made our town a better place | |
| For all the good he'd done | |
| We pulled up that old hitchin' post | |
| Where Doc had nailed a sign | |
| We'd painted it white and to all of us | |
| It certainly did look fine | |
| Now the rains and the snows | |
| Have washed away our white trimmin's of paint | |
| There ain't nothin' left but | |
| Doc's own sign | |
| And that's gettin' pretty faint | |
| But you can still see that old hitchin' post | |
| As if in answer to our prayers | |
| Mutually tellin' the whole wide world | |
| Doc Brown has moved upstairs |
| zuò cí : Foley | |
| He was just an old country doctor | |
| In a little country town | |
| Fame and fortune had passed him by | |
| Though we never saw him frown | |
| As day by day in his kindly way | |
| He' d serve us one and all | |
| Many a patient forgot to pay | |
| Although Doc' s fees were small | |
| Though he needed his dimes and there were | |
| Times that he' d receive a fee | |
| He' d pass it onto some poor soul | |
| That needed it worse than he | |
| He had to sell his furniture | |
| Couldn' t pay his office rent | |
| So to a dusty room over a livery stable | |
| Doc Brown and his satchel went | |
| And on the hitchin' post at the kerb below | |
| To advertise his wares | |
| He nailed a little sign that read" Doc Brown has moved upstairs" | |
| And one day he didn' t answer | |
| When they knocked upon his door | |
| Old Doc Brown was layin' down | |
| But his soul was no more | |
| They found him there in that old black suit | |
| 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 | |
| DocHad write these words, " Paid in full" | |
| Old Doc should had | |
| A funeral fine enough for a king | |
| It' s a ghastly joke our town was broke | |
| And no one could give a thing' | |
| Cept Jones an undertaker | |
| He did mighty well | |
| Donated an old iron casket | |
| He had never been able to sell | |
| And the funeral procession | |
| It wasn' t much for grace and pomp and the style | |
| But those wagon loads of mourners | |
| They stretched out for more than a mile | |
| We wanted to give him a monument | |
| We kinda figured we owed him one' | |
| Cause he made our town a better place | |
| For all the good he' d done | |
| We pulled up that old hitchin' post | |
| Where Doc had nailed a sign | |
| We' d painted it white and to all of us | |
| It certainly did look fine | |
| Now the rains and the snows | |
| Have washed away our white trimmin' s of paint | |
| There ain' t nothin' left but | |
| Doc' s own sign | |
| And that' s gettin' pretty faint | |
| But you can still see that old hitchin' post | |
| As if in answer to our prayers | |
| Mutually tellin' the whole wide world | |
| Doc Brown has moved upstairs |