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B. R. Hornsby |
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Deep down in the south county |
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Over where the paper mill runs |
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Lived a man, a young country doctor |
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With the perfect wife and sons |
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Well he worked his days |
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And Sundays he'd pray |
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And nobody knew |
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Why the wife slowly withered away |
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I saw the country doctor, to ask him what was wrong with me |
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He was caught unaware, accidental and devil may care |
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Behind the curtain |
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I see, two shadows in front of me |
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Oh nobody know the trouble |
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I've seen |
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My guess, there was another woman |
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And with the kids and the money there was a lot to lose |
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He said she had an rare affliction |
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And he was doing all he could do |
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And we all believed him |
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Felt so sorry and then |
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I thought once he was a fine man |
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Now I don't remember when |
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I saw the country doctor, to ask him what was wrong with me |
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He was caught unaware, accidental and devil may care |
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Behind the curtain |
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I see, bottles unmarked in front of me |
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Whoa nobody knows the trouble |
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I've seen |
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I saw the country doctor, in a place he didn't see me |
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Way out in the middle of the night where he thought no one could see |
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Over there in the parlor room, making eyes, hands roaming free |
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Someone soon must know, the trouble |
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I've seen |
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Did you think about the young ones |
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One day they'll know it was you |
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And if they let you off one day |
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Who then will you turn to |
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And my wife remembers one thing |
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She said I remember kind of strangely |
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At a friends wedding one time |
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It was a look that he gave me |
