He's An Artist / 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
