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Bob Dylan

Chimes Of Freedom

Far between sundowns finish an midnights broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An for each an evry underdog soldier in the night
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
In the citys melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin constantly at stake
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder

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I Shall Be Free

Well, I took me a woman late last night,
Is three-fourths drunk, she looked uptight.
She took off her wheel, took off her bell,
Took off her wig, said, how do I smell?
I hot-footed it . . . bare-naked . . .
Out the window!
Well, sometimes I might get drunk,
Walk like a duck and stomp like a skunk.
Dont hurt me none, dont hurt my pride
cause I got my little lady right by my side.
(right there
Proud as can be)
Is out there paintin on the old woodshed
When a can a black paint it fell on my head.
I went down to scrub and rub
But I had to sit in back of the tub.
(cost a quarter
And I had to get out quick . . .
Someone wanted to come in and take a sauna)
Well, my telephone rang it would not stop,

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Rambling, Gambling Willie

Come around you rovin gamblers and a story I will tell
About the greatest gambler, you all should know him well.
His name was will o conley and he gambled all his life,
He had twenty-seven children, yet he never had a wife.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
He gambled in the white house and in the railroad yards,
Wherever there was people, there was willie and his cards.
He had a reputation as the gamblinest man around,
Wives would keep their husbands home when willie came to town.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
Sailin down the mississippi to a town called new orleans,
Theyre still talkin about their card game on that jackson river queen.
Ive come to win some money, gamblin willie says,
When the game finally ended up, the whole damn boat was his.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,

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Talkin World War Iii Blues

Some time ago a crazy dream came to me,
I dreamt I was walkin into world war three,
I went to the doctor the very next day
To see what kinda words he could say.
He said it was a bad dream.
I wouldnt worry bout it none, though,
They were my own dreams and theyre only in my head.
I said, hold it, doc, a world war passed through my brain.
He said, nurse, get your pad, this boys insane,
He grabbed my arm, I said ouch!
As I landed on the psychiatric couch,
He said, tell me about it.
Well, the whole thing started at 3 oclock fast,
It was all over by quarter past.
I was down in the sewer with some little lover
When I peeked out from a manhole cover
Wondering who turned the lights on.
Well, I got up and walked around
And up and down the lonesome town.
I stood a-wondering which way to go,

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Gotta Serve Somebody

You may be an ambassador to england or france,
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance,
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world,
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls
But youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
You might be a rock n roll addict prancing on the stage,
You might have drugs at your command, women in a cage,
You may be a business man or some high degree thief,
They may call you doctor or they may call you chief
But youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
You may be a state trooper, you might be a young turk,
You may be the head of some big tv network,
You may be rich or poor, you may be blind or lame,
You may be living in another country under another name

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Motorpsycho Nightmare

I pounded on a farmhouse
Lookin for a place to stay.
I was mighty, mighty tired,
I had gone a long, long way.
I said, hey, hey, in there,
Is there anybody home?
I was standin on the steps
Feelin most alone.
Well, out comes a farmer,
He must have thought that I was nuts.
He immediately looked at me
And stuck a gun into my guts.
I fell down
To my bended knees,
Saying, I dig farmers,
Dont shoot me, please!
He cocked his rifle
And began to shout,
Youre that travelin salesman
That I have heard about.

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A Hard Rains A-gonna Fall

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
Ive stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
Ive walked and Ive crawled on six crooked highways,
Ive stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
Ive been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
Ive been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And its a hard, and its a hard, its a hard, and its a hard,
And its a hard rains a-gonna fall.
Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin,
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin,
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And its a hard, and its a hard, its a hard, its a hard,
And its a hard rains a-gonna fall.

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The Ballad Of Frankie Lee & Judas Priest

Well, frankie lee and judas priest,
They were the best of friends.
So when frankie lee needed money one day,
Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens
And placed them on a footstool
Just above the plotted plain,
Sayin, take your pick, frankie boy,
My loss will be your gain.
Well, frankie lee, he sat right down
And put his fingers to his chin,
But with the cold eyes of judas on him,
His head began to spin.
Would ya please not stare at me like that, he said,
Its just my foolish pride,
But sometimes a man must be alone
And this is no place to hide.
Well, judas, he just winked and said,
All right, Ill leave you here,
But youd better hurry up and choose
Which of those bills you want,

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Arthur Mcbride

1. oh, me and my cousin, one arthur mcbride,
As we went a-walkin down by the seaside,
Mark now what followed and what did betide,
For it bein on christmas mornin
Now, for recreation, we went on a tramp,
And we met sergeant napper and corporal vamp
And a little wee drummer intending to camp,
For the day bein pleasant and charmin.
2. good morning, good morning, the sergeant he cried.
And the same to you, gentlemen, we did reply,
Intending no harm but meant to pass by,
For it bein on christmas mornin
But, says he, my fine fellows, if you will enlist,
Ten guineas in gold Ill stick to your fist,
And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust,
And drink the kings health in the morning.
3. for a soldier, he leads a very fine life,
And he always is blessed with a charming young wife,
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife,
And he always lives pleasant and charmin,

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Sad-eyed Lady Of The Lowlands

With your mercury mouth in the missionary times,
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes,
And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes,
Oh, who among them do they think could bury you?
With your pockets well protected at last,
And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass,
And your flesh like silk, and your face like glass,
Who among them do they think could carry you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace,
And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace,
And your basement clothes and your hollow face,
Who among them can think he could outguess you?
With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims,
And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns,

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