Bob Dylan - Tombstone Blues lyrics
[Bob Dylan - Tombstone Blues lyrics]
The sweet pretty things are in
Bed now of course
The city fathers they’re trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere’s horse
But the town has no need to be nervous
The ghost of Belle Starr she
Hands down her wit's
To Jezebel the nun she violently knit's
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sit's
At the head of the chamber of commerce
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I’ve just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor
Who pulls down the shade and says
"My advice is to not let the boys in"
Now the medicine man comes
And he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and
He says to the bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it’s not poison"
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I’m in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
Well, John the Baptist
After torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero, the commander-in chief
Saying, "Tell me, great hero, but please
Make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"
The commander-in chief answers him
While chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who
Would whimper and cry"
And dropping a barbell, he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken"
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
The king of the Philistines
His soldiers to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones
And flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison
And fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle
Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he
Burns out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro
Behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I’m in trouble with the tombstone blues
The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo’s math book to get thrown
At Delilah who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter
Now I wish I could give
Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at
The top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars
And Cecil B deMille
He could die happily ever after
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven
Once unwrapped their bedroll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit
Sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks home and the college
Now I wish I could write
You a melody so plain
That could hold you dear
Lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool
You and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
Bed now of course
The city fathers they’re trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere’s horse
But the town has no need to be nervous
The ghost of Belle Starr she
Hands down her wit's
To Jezebel the nun she violently knit's
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sit's
At the head of the chamber of commerce
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I’ve just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor
Who pulls down the shade and says
"My advice is to not let the boys in"
Now the medicine man comes
And he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and
He says to the bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it’s not poison"
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I’m in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
Well, John the Baptist
After torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero, the commander-in chief
Saying, "Tell me, great hero, but please
Make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"
The commander-in chief answers him
While chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who
Would whimper and cry"
And dropping a barbell, he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken"
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
The king of the Philistines
His soldiers to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones
And flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison
And fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle
Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he
Burns out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro
Behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I’m in trouble with the tombstone blues
The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo’s math book to get thrown
At Delilah who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter
Now I wish I could give
Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at
The top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars
And Cecil B deMille
He could die happily ever after
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven
Once unwrapped their bedroll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit
Sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks home and the college
Now I wish I could write
You a melody so plain
That could hold you dear
Lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool
You and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge
Mama’s in the factory she ain't got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley he’s lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues