He's AArtist / Look lady


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?



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