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Every town has its town bum |
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I guess ours had one |
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Here's a song about him, I remember him fondly |
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Well his name was Abner Brown |
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I knew an old drunk named Abner Brown |
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And nobody knew when he came to town |
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But he spread good will to his fellow men |
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And they let him sleep in the cotton gin |
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He could drink more brew than an army could |
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But he had more friends and he did more good |
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Than a lot of fine fancy people in our town |
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So they tolerated Abner Brown |
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And all us kids were on his side |
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'Cause he told us tales till our eyes grew wide |
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And he made us feel bout ten feet tall |
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'Cause he had no kids but he claimed us all |
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And after school and on weekends |
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You could find me down at the cotton gin |
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The truest friend that I ever found was |
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A good old drunk named Abner Brown |
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Abner Brown, I wish that I could see you once again |
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I believe that you'd stack up with all the mighty men |
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I've met and known in all the low |
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And higher places that I've been |
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Thinking of you picks me up when I'm feeling down |
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I thank the Lord for making Abner Brown |
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Lord take me back to the cotton land |
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To Arkansas take me home again |
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Let me be the boy that I once have been |
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Let me walk that road to the cotton gin |
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He's probably dead many years ago |
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And gone the way that old drunks go |
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But I'd still like to sit me down |
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Talk to my old friend, Abner Brown |
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Abner Brown, I wish |
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I thank the Lord for making Abner Brown |
