Bob Dylan Lyrics

Album: ANOTHER SIDE OF BOB DYLAN

I Shall Be Free No. 10 Lyrics

I'm just average, common too

 I'm just like him, the same as you

 I'm everybody's brother and son

 I ain't different than anyone

 It ain't no use a-talking to me 

 It's just the same as talking to you.

 

 I was shadow-boxing earlier in the day

 I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay

 I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay here I come

 26, 27, 28, 29, I'm gonna make your face look just like mine

 Five, four, three, two, one, Cassius Clay you'd better run 

 99, 100 101, 102, your ma won't even recognize you

 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleenf.

 

 Well, I don't know, but I've been told

 The streets in heaven are lined with gold I ask you how things could get much worse

 If the Russians happen to get up there first

 Wowee! pretty scary !

 

 Now, I'm liberal, but to a degree

 I want ev'rybody to be free

 But if you think that I'll let Barry Goldwater

 Move in next door and mary my daughter

 You must think I'm crazy !

 I wouldn't let him do it for all the farms in Cuba.

 

 Well, I set my monkey on the log

 And ordered him to do the Dog

 He wagged his tail and shook his head

 And he went and did the Cat instead

 He's a weird monkey, very funky.

 

 I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on

 Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun

 I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist

 And my wig-hat falling in my face

 But they wouldn't let me on the tennis court.

 

 I gotta woman, she's so mean

 She sticks my boots in the washing machine

 Sticks me with buckshot when I'm nude

 Puts bubblegum in my food

 She's funny, wants my money, calls me honey.

 

 Now I gotta friend who spends his life

 Stabbing my picture with a bowie-knife

 Dreams of strangling me with a scarf

 When my name comes up he pretends to barf

 I've got a million friends !

 

 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.

 

 You're probably wondering by now

 Just what this song is all about

 What's probably got you baffled more

 What this thing here is for

 It's nothing

 It's something I learned over in England