| C | | Every time I go downtown, |
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| G7 | | Somebody kicks my | dog around. |
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| C | | Makes no difference if he's a hound, |
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| G7 | C | | You gotta quit kicking my | dog aro | und. |
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Me and Lem Briggs and old Bill Brown |
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Took a load of corn to town. |
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Old Jim Dog the ornery old cuss, |
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He just naturally follered us. |
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As we drift past John's the store, |
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A passle of yaps come out the door. |
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Jim he scooted behind a box, |
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With all them fellers a-throwin' rocks. |
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They tied a can to old Jim's tail, |
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And run him past the county jail. |
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That just naturally made us sore, |
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Lem he cussed and Bill he swore. |
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Me and Lem Briggs and old Bill Brown |
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Lost no time a gettin' down, |
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Rubbed them fellers on the ground |
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For kicking my old Jim Dog around. |
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Jim seen his duty there and then, |
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He lit into them gentlemen. |
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He shure mussed up the courthouse square, |
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With rags and meat and hide and hair. |
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Every time I go downtown, |
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Somebody kicks my dog around. |
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Makes no difference if he's a hound, |
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You gotta quit kicking my dog around. |
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