“Toby” Marshall, on parole for forgery, poses as a doctor who can cure alcoholism with sufficient handfuls of pills. Hank hired him as his personal physician 6 weeks before he died.

Lyrics

If it please the Court, they call me Dr. Toby Marshall
Though my Christian names are Horace and Raphol
I was Hank Williams’ doctor, called to keep him off the bottle
I gave him morphine, speed and seconal
For 3 bills a week, I kept him clean and sober
Stayed well within the letter of the law

It was a foggy New Year’s morning when I got the call he’d passed
The Greyhound sped to Charleston without delay
Consulted with the police, comforted his mother
But the fact is, my expenses were unpaid
Despite my clear accounting of services rendered
His mother sobbed and threw my bill away

I believe he died by suicide, your Honour
No way those drugs could cause a heart attack
His injured back was hurting something awful
And there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say
Nothing I could do about that

It was just a coincidence, my ex-wife died that winter
It’s true that she was only 45
She had a slew of aliments, too numerous to mention
She’d also taken drugs that I’d prescribed
The alimony payments were a bit excessive
But, your Honour, she was such a lovely bride

I believe she died by suicide, your Honour
No way those drugs could cause a heart attack
She was angry that I’d left her for another
And there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say
Nothing I could do about that
Yeah, there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say
Nothing I could do about that