He's AArtist / Look lady

Mother:

He’s an artist, he’s just an artist

That’s the hardest thing to bear

Random sketches on cow or page

Won’t support me in my old age

And him, what does he care?

 

I say be a doctor, be a lawyer

Be a sawyer or bricklayer

But instead he’s chosen art

Now does that seem very smart?

Oh him, what does he care?

 

Man:

Okay boys, take it away

Sorry lady, we’ve got to make way

For a stadium for the Giants or the Jets

Or let’s say, the Nets

C’mon boys, yes, let’s

Get a move on – today!

 

Look, lady, here’s the idea

We’re gonna build a Big Ikea

Huge, wide, and high

Look, lady, don’t you cry

Your son needs a job, he can apply

Well, gotta go, I’ll see ya

 

Mother:                                                                        Man:

What about my artist, my little artist?                           Look, lady, I don’t know

He’s not the smartest boy out there                            Just where you might go

A job in the city, or at the mall                                     New Jersey, Long Island

Might there be no place at all                                     All I know is this is my land

For him, why do I care?                                               Anyway, you take care

Because he’s my little artist, and he’s there                I’ll see you round, somewhere

 

All words and music by Dave Hall ©

Publisher: Row House Music   PRO: ASCAP

Lyrics