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