Uploaded February 2013 | Updated September 2026, 4 hours ago
My Bro, to honor Scott Austin on the occasion of his 60th birthday.
(Original Melody: "Grandpa was a Carpenter" John Prine)
Chorus :
Well, my bro they call professor, Gray beard on both cheeks
Lives way down in Texas, Teaches the ancient Greeks
Buys his students doughnuts, They don't sit in back
Smokin' Camel cigarettes, He takes his coffee black
Laughin lines around both eyes, Loves his Holy Grail
Won a prize for his advice, Took highest marks at Yale
Came to teach at Cambridge, As soon as grades were in
Crossed the sea to China, To lecture at Renmin
Chorus:
Born just south of NYC, Raised out in the West
Lunch money from paper route tips, But let me keep the best
Kneels in church on Sundays, Sings blues Friday nights
Sleeps a week on Saturday, Dreams in the endless light
Chorus:
My Bro, to honor Scott Austin on the occasion of his 60th birthday.
(Original Melody: "Grandpa was a Carpenter" John Prine)
Chorus :
Well, my bro they call professor, Gray beard on both cheeks
Lives way down in Texas, Teaches the ancient Greeks
Buys his students doughnuts, They don't sit in back
Smokin' Camel cigarettes, He takes his coffee black
Laughin lines around both eyes, Loves his Holy Grail
Won a prize for his advice, Took highest marks at Yale
Came to teach at Cambridge, As soon as grades were in
Crossed the sea to China, To lecture at Renmin
Chorus:
Born just south of NYC, Raised out in the West
Lunch money from paper route tips, But let me keep the best
Kneels in church on Sundays, Sings blues Friday nights
Sleeps a week on Saturday, Dreams in the endless light
Chorus:








![Annes Lament
In honor of Anne G. Wood, on the occasion of her 95th birthday.
. . . . . . .
[D]Who is the [Bm]gentleman that [G]sits by my [D]bed?
He says that he [A7]knows me so [D]well.
But Im certain that [Bm]Ive never [G]seen him be[D]fore,
Though somehow his [A7]face rings a [D]bell.
Hes [G]showing me pictures and [D]telling me [D7]lies,
But theres [G]someplace that Id rather be.[D] [A7]
So [D]I drift [Bm]away to the [G]sound of his [D]voice,
I want to go [A7]down to the [D]sea.
I wish that our Patrick would hurry back home.
Hes been away such a long time.
For he had to go, stop Hitler, you know.
Hes somewhere on the front line.
But Ill keep the flame burning bright in the hearth
While he fights to keep us all free.
Hell come back from the war, and buy a new car,
And hell chauffeur me down to the sea.
Ill put on my best Sunday dress for the day,
Bright ribbons to tie up my hair,
And Ill wait by the gate for me mother to come.
All the longing is so hard to bear.
Well build castles so high, that theyll reach to the sky;
And the ice cream will all be for free;
And well dance in the sand to an old-time brass band.
I want to go down to the sea.
Now I sit all alone at the end of the room,
And gaze out the window all day.
For I know that me father will be coming soon,
He promised to take me away.
And sometimes I cry over nothing at all,
Still nobody listens to me.
When I close my eyes, I can hear the gulls call.
I want to go down to the sea Annes Lament](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/sz6ICj1VFJ4/mqdefault.jpg)

