Bob Dylan Album

Well, I don't know why I love you like I do
Nobody in the world can get along with you
You got the ways of a devil sleeping in a lion's den
I come home last night you wouldn't even let me in.

Oh sometimes you're as sweet as nobody want to be
Oh when you get the crazy notion of jumping all over me
Well, you give me the blues, I guess you're satisfied
When you give me the blues I wanna lay down and die.

After when you had no shoes on your feet, pretty mama
After when you had no food to eat
Now you're the kind of woman that just don't understand
You're taking give it to another man.

Well, you're that kind of woman makes a man lose his brains
You're that kind of woman drives me insane
Well, you give me the blues, I guess you're satisfied
You give me the blues, I wanna lay down and die.

Ramblin' out of the wild West,
Leavin' the towns I love the best.
Thought I'd seen some ups and down,
"Til I come into New York town.
People goin' down to the ground,
Buildings goin' up to the sky.

Wintertime in New York town,
The wind blowin' snow around.
Walk around with nowhere to go,
Somebody could freeze right to the bone.
I froze right to the bone.
New York Times said it was the coldest winter in seventeen years;
I didn't feel so cold then.

I swung on to my old guitar,
Grabbed hold of a subway car,
And after a rocking, reeling, rolling ride,
I landed up on the downtown side;
Greenwich Village.

I walked down there and ended up
In one of them coffee-houses on the block.
Got on the stage to sing and play,
Man there said, "Come back some other day,
You sound like a hillbilly;
We want folk singer here."

Well, I got a harmonica job, begun to play,
Blowin' my lungs out for a dollar a day.
I blowed inside out and upside down.
The man there said he loved m' sound,
He was ravin' about how he loved m' sound;
Dollar a day's worth.

And after weeks and weeks of hangin' around,
I finally got a job in New York town,
In a bigger place, bigger money too,
Even joined the union and paid m' dues.

Now, a very great man once said
That some people rob you with a fountain pen.
It didn't take too long to find out
Just what he was talkin' about.
A lot of people don't have much food on their table,
But they got a lot of forks n' knives,
And they gotta cut somethin'.

So one mornin' when the sun was warm,
I rambled out of New York town.
Pulled my cap down over my eyes
And headed out for the western skies.
So long, New York.
Howdy, East Orange.

Here we are
Stuck by this river,
You and I
Underneath a sky that's ever falling down, down, down
Ever falling down

Through the day
As if on an ocean
Waiting here,
Always failing to remember why we came, came, came:
I wonder why we came

You talk to me
As if from a distance
And I reply
With impressions chosen from another time, time, time,
From another time

In constant sorrow all through his days!

I am a man of constant sorrow,
I've seen trouble all my days.
I bid farewell to old Kentucky,
The place where I was born and raised.

The place where he was born and raised!

For six long years,
I've been in trouble.
no pleasure here,
on earth I've found.

For in this world,
I'm bound to ramble,
I have no friends to help me now.

He has no friends to help him now!

It's fare thee well,
my old true lover,
I never expect to see you again.

For I'm bound to ride,
that Northern Railroad,
Perhaps I'll die upon this train.

Perhaps he'll die upon this train!

You can bury me in some deep Valley,
For many years, there I may lay.
Then you may learn to love another
while I am sleeping in my grave

While he is sleeping in his grave!

Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger,
My face you'll never see no more.
But, there is one promise that is given,
I'll meet you on God's golden shore.

He'll meet you on God's golden shore!

Feeling funny in my mind, Lord,
I believe I'm fixing to die
Feeling funny in my mind, Lord
I believe I'm fixing to die
Well, I don't mind dying
But I hate to leave my children crying
Well, I look over yonder to that burying ground
Look over yonder to that burying ground
Sure seems lonesome, Lord, when the sun goes down

Feeling funny in my eyes, Lord,
I believe I'm fixing to die, fixing to die
Feeling funny in my eyes, Lord
I believe I'm fixing to die
Well, I don't mind dying but
I hate to leave my children crying
There's a black smoke rising, Lord
It's rising up above my head, up above my head
It's rising up above my head, up above my head
And tell Jesus make up my dying bed.

I'm walking kind of funny, Lord
I believe I'm fixing to die, fixing to die
Yes I'm walking kind of funny, Lord
I believe I'm fixing to die
Fixing to die, fixing to die
Well, I don't mind dying
But I hate to leave my children crying.

(First release—Traditional, arranged by Bob Dylan)

I've been around this whole country
But I never yet found Fennario.

Well, as we marched down
As we marched down
Well, as we marched down to Fennario
Well, our captain fell in love
With a lady like a dove
Her name that she had was Pretty Peggy-O

Well, what will your mother say
What will your mother say
What will your mother say, Pretty Peggy-O
What will your mother say
To know you're going away
You're never, never, never coming back-io ?

Come a-running down your stairs
Come a-running down your stairs
Come a-running down your stairs, Pretty Peggy-O
Come a-running down your stairs
Comb back your yellow hair
You're the prettiest darned girl I ever seen-io.

The lieutenant he has gone
The lieutenant he has gone
The lieutenant he has gone, Pretty Peggy-O
The lieutenant he has gone
Long gone
He's a-riding down in Texas with the rodeo.

Well, our captain he is dead
Our captain he is dead
Our captain he is dead, Pretty Peggy-O
Well, our captain he is dead
Died for a maid
He's buried somewheres in Louisiana-O.

Highway 51 runs right by my baby's door
Highway 51 runs right by my baby's door
But won't get the girl I'm loving
Won't go down Highway 51 no more.

Well, I know that highway like I know my hand
Yes, I know that highway like I know the back of my hand
Running from up Wisconsin
Way down to no man's land.

Well, if I should die before my time should come
And if I should die before my time should come
Won't you bury my body
Out on Highway 51?

Highway 51 runs right by my baby's door
I said, Highway 51 runs right by my baby's door
But won't get the girl I'm loving
Won't go down Highway 51 no more.

(First release—Traditional, arranged by Bob Dylan)

Mary wore three links of chain,
Every link was Jesus name,
Keep your hand on that plow, hold on,
Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord,
Keep your hand on that plow, hold on.

Mary, Mark and Luke and John,
All them prophets are dead and gone,
Keep your hand on that plow, hold on,
Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord,
Keep your hand on that plow, hold on.

Well I never been to heaven, but I've been told,
Streets up there are lined with gold,
Keep your hand on that plow, hold on,
Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord,
Keep your hand on that plow, hold on.
Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord,
Keep your hand on that plow, hold on.

Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord,
Keep your hand on that plow, hold on.

Baby, let me follow you down
Baby, let me follow you down
Well I'd do anything in this god almighty world
If you just let me follow you down

Can I come home with you?
Baby, can I come home with you?
Well I'd do anything in this god almighty world
If you just let me come home with you

Baby, let me follow you down
Baby, let me follow you down
Well I'd do anything in this god almighty world
If you just let me follow you down

Yes, I'd do anything in this god almighty world
If you just let me follow you down

There is a house in New Orleans,
They call the Rising Sun.
It's been the ruin of many a-poor girl,
And me oh God, I'm one.

My mother was a tailor,
She sewed my new blue jeans.
My sweetheart was a gambler,
Down in New Orleans.

Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk.
And the only time he's satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk.

He fills his glasses up to the brim,
And he'll pass the cards around.
And the only pleasure he gets out of life,
Is ramblin' from town to town.

Oh tell my baby sister,
Not to do what I have done.
But shun that house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun.

Well it's one foot on the platform,
The other foot on the train.
I'm goin' back to New Orleans,
To wear that ball and chain.

I'm a goin' back to New Orleans,
My race is almost run.
I'm goin' back to end my life,
Down in the Rising Sun.

There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun.
It's been the ruin of many a-poor girl
And me oh God, I'm one.

I was born in Dixie in a boomer shed
Just a little shanty by the railroad track
Freight train was it taught me how to cry
The holler of the driver was my lullaby
I got the freight train blues
Oh Lord mama, I got them in the bottom of my rambling shoes
And when the whistle blows I gotta go baby, don't you know
Well, it looks like I'm never gonna lose the freight train blues.

Well, my daddy was a fireman and my mama-ha
She was the only daugther of an enginer
My sweetheart was a brakeman and it ain't no joke
Seems a waste to get a good man broke
I got the freight train blues
Oh Lord mama, I got them in the bottom of my rambling shoes
And when the whistle blows I gotta go mama, don't you know
Well, it looks like I'm never gonna lose the freight train blues.

Well, the only thing that makes me laugh again
Is a southbound whistle on a southbound train
Every place I wanna go I never can go
Because you know I got the freight train blues
Oh Lord mama, I got them in the bottom of my rambling shoes

I'm out here a thousand miles from my home,
Walkin' a road other men have gone down.
I'm seein' your world of people and things,
Your paupers and peasants and princes and kings.

Hey, hey Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song
'Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along.
Seems sick an' it's hungry, it's tired an' it's torn,
It looks like it's a-dyin' an' it's hardly been born.

Hey, Woody Guthrie, but I know that you know
All the things that I'm a-sayin' an' a-many times more.
I'm a-singin' you the song, but I can't sing enough,
'Cause there's not many men that done the things that you've done.

Here's to Cisco and Sonny and Leadbelly too,
An' to all the good people that traveled with you.
Here's to the hearts and the hands of the men
That come with the dust and are gone with the wind.

I'm a-leaving' tomorrow, but I could leave today,
Somewhere down the road someday.
The very last thing that I'd want to do
Is to say I've been hittin' some hard travelin' too.

Well there's one kind of favor I'll ask for you
Well there's one kind of favor I'll ask for you
There's just one kind of favor I'll ask for you
You can see that my grave is kept clean.

And there's two white horses following me
And there's two white horses following me
I got two white horses following me
Waiting on my burying ground.

Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Means another poor boy is under the ground.

Did you eer hear them church bells toll
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Means another poor boy is dead and gone.

And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And I believe what the father told.

And there's one last favor I'll ask for you
And there's one last favor I'll ask for you And just one last favor I'll ask for you
You can see that my grave is kept clean.