Monday, May 24, 2010

Happy Birthday, Mr Dylan


“Now they asked me to read a poem
At the sorority sister's home
I got knocked down and my head was swimmin'
I wound up with the Dean of Women
Yippee! I'm a poet, and I know it.
Hope I don't blow it.

I'm gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange
So I look like a walking mountain range
And I'm gonna ride into Omaha on a horse
Out to the country club and the golf course.
Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds.

Now you're probably wondering by now
Just what this song is all about
What's probably got you baffled more
Is what this thing here is for.
It's nothing
It's something I learned over in England."

“I Shall Be Free, No.10”

2 comments:

merson said...

ok, I may forgive you the bad Robert Service as you like the bard

Ian Pindar said...

Well, that's a relief. (Thank you, Bob.)