Outside of a Dog—lyrics

Outside of a Dog

Words and music by Christopher Kent

I used to know a woman who became a man — he worked hard all day long
And he did all that one small person can to avoid doing anything wrong
He traveled in crowds and he never spoke loud, and he always tried to look his best
And everyone thought he was all that he ought, although he never took an aptitude test
Most folks said he had a level head, and they liked to ask his advice
Cause they figured he knew what was good and was bad, and they wanted to see what was nice
But he never did answer their questions at all
And he never had too much to say, except for
“Outside of a dog a book is man’s best friend,
And inside, you can’t read anyway.”

He never got drunk or believed in bunk, or was wanted by the FBI
And he was never accused of being over-abused, although they never ever saw him lie
In his garden he grew a tomato or two that he liked to move from place to place
And he mumbled a lot about a burial spot, although he never could find enough space
Most folks said that he was young at heart, though nobody really found out
Cause they figured he knew what was young and was old, and he seemed to know what was doubt
But he never did look too concerned at all
And he never had too much to say, except for
“Outside of a dog a book is man’s best friend,
And inside, you can’t read anyway.”

He was eating a peach when the lightning struck and his luck ran out that day
And they fired the maid when the insurance was paid and the truck came to take him away
But they say he believed in being born again, so he was born again that night
Though he could not remember where he’d been all day — he just knew he’d had a terrible flight
Well, most folks thought that he was gone for good, and they did not recognize the name
And despite the chance, they would not give her a glance ’cause she just didn’t seem the same
But it did not matter, cause the truth was said
And there wasn’t too much left to say, except for
“Outside of a dog a book is man’s best friend,
And inside, you can’t read anyway.”

Copyright 1975 by Christopher Kent. All rights reserved.