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HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED - 1965

TOMBSTONE BLUES
Word and Music by: Bob Dylan - 1965

Recorded on 'Highway 61 Revisited' (1965), 'Real Live' (1984), 'Biograph' (1985) and 'MTV Unplugged' (1995)

 

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Capo 2nd Fret

         E                                        A                   E

The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
        E                                      A       E
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
        E                         A                     E
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
              E                    A               E
But the town has no need to be nervous


The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce

         A
        Mama's in the fact'ry
     
                   E
        She ain't got no shoes
         A
        Daddy's in the alley
                 E
        He's lookin' for food
         A
        I'm in the kitchen
      
                                    E
        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
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 fact'ry
        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 bar bell he points to the sky
Saving, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken"

        Mama's in the fact'ry
        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

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 fact'ry
        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 sits 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 fact'ry
        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

Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
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 fact'ry
        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.


REAL LIVE VERSION

Capo 2nd Fret

         B

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
              A                                       B
But the town has no need to be nervous


The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce

         E
        Mama's in the fact'ry
     
                   B
        She ain't got no shoes
         E
        Daddy's in the alley
                 B
        He's lookin' for food
         E
        I'm in the kitchen
      
                                    B
        With the tombstone blues.



MTV UNPLUGGED VERSION

Capo 2nd Fret

         G

The sweet pretty things they are in bed now of course

The city fathers they're trying to endorse

The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
              Bb                 C                  G
But the town has no need to be nervous

The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce

         C
         Mama's in the fact'ry
     
                   G
        She ain't got no shoes
         C
        Daddy's in the hallway
         G
        Lookin' for the fuse
         C
        I'm in the kitchen
      
                 C    Bb        G
        With the tombstone blues.

The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "That I've just been made"
Then sends for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in"

Well the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to the bride
"Stop all this weeping and swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison"

        Mama's in the fact'ry
        Ain't got no shoes
        Daddy's in the alley
        He's lookin' for the fuse
        I'm in the kitchen
        With the tombstone blues

Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
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

I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
Stop this weeping and you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge

        Mama's in the fact'ry
        Ain't got no shoes
        Daddy's in the hallway
        He's lookin' for the fuse
        I'm in the kitchen
        With the tombstone blues


Copyright © 1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


 

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