Talking New Bob Dylan

(albüm: History - 1992)

Hey, Bob Dylan, I wrote you a song
Today is your birthday if I'm not wrong
If I'm not mistaken you're fifty today
How are you doing, Bob? What do you say?

Well, it musta been about '62
I heard you on record, and you were brand-new
An' some had some doubts about the way you sang
But the truth came through and loudly rang
Yeah, you were hipper than Mitch Miller
And Johnny Mathis, put together

So I got some boots, a harmonica rack
A D-21, an' I was on the right track
But I didn't start writing until '68
It was too damn daunting, you were too great
I won a whole lot of Bob Dylan imitation contests, though, huh

Yeah, times were a-changing
You brought it all home
"Blonde On Blonde", "Like a Rolling Stone"
The real world is crazy, you were deranged
An' when you went electric, why, everything changed
A shock to the system

Had a commission at yer motorcycle wreck
Holed up in Woodstock, with a broken neck
The labels were signing up guys with guitars
Out to make millions, looking for stars
Well, I figured it was time to make my move
Songs from the West Chester County Delta country

Yeah, I got a deal and so did John Prine
Steve Forbert and Springsteen, all in a line
They were looking for you, signing up others
We were "new Bob Dylans", your dumb-ass kid brothers
Well, we still get together every week at Bruce's house
Why, he's got quite a spread, I tell ya it's a twelve-step program

Well, but we were just us and of course you were you
"John Wesley Harding" sure sounded new
And then "Nashville Skyline" was even newer
'Blood On the Tracks', an' the ringing got truer
Let's see, there was another one in there somewhere
Oh, I got it, I got it, "Self Portrait"
Well, it was an interesting effort

Yeah, had to stop listening, times were too tough
Me being the new me was hard enough
You keep right on changing like you always do
An' what's best is the old stuff still all sounds new

Yeah, today is your birthday, have a great one, Bob!
Being the new you is one hell of a job
My kid cranked up her boom-box to almost grown
When I heard you screaming from her room
"Everybody must get stoned"
Thanks a lot, Bob

Happy birthday, Bob