dreamstation2_v2.jsonl

{"text": "<title>Hard Times In New York Town</title> <lyrics>Come you ladies and you gentlemen, a-listen to my song\n\nSing it to you right, but you might think it’s wrong\n\nJust a little glimpse of a story I’ll tell\n\n’Bout an East Coast city that you all know well\n\nIt’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nOld New York City is a friendly old town\n\nFrom Washington Heights to Harlem on down\n\nThere’s a-mighty many people all millin’ all around\n\nThey’ll kick you when you’re up and knock you when you’re down\n\nIt’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nIt’s a mighty long ways from the Golden Gate\n\nTo Rockefeller Plaza ’n’ the Empire State.\n\nMister Rockefeller sets up as high as a bird\n\nOld Mister Empire never says a word\n\nIt’s hard times from the country\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nWell, it’s up in the mornin’ tryin’ to find a job of work\n\nStand in one place till your feet begin to hurt\n\nIf you got a lot o’ money you can make yourself merry\n\nIf you only got a nickel, it’s the Staten Island Ferry\n\nAnd it’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nMister Hudson come a-sailin’ down the stream\n\nAnd old Mister Minuet paid for his dream\n\nBought your city on a one-way track\n\n’F I had my way I’d sell it right back\n\nAnd it’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nI’ll take all the smog in Cal-i-for-ne-ay\n\n’N’ every bit of dust in the Oklahoma plains\n\n’N’ the dirt in the caves of the Rocky Mountain mines\n\nIt’s all much cleaner than the New York kind\n\nAnd it’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nSo all you newsy people, spread the news around\n\nYou c’n listen to m’ story, listen to m’ song\n\nYou c’n step on my name, you c’n try ’n’ get me beat\n\nWhen I leave New York, I’ll be standin’ on my feet\n\nAnd it’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Man on the street</title> <lyrics>’ll sing you a song, ain’t very long\n\n’Bout an old man who never done wrong\n\nHow he died nobody can say\n\nThey found him dead in the street one day\n\n\n\nWell, the crowd, they gathered one fine morn\n\nAt the man whose clothes ’n’ shoes were torn\n\nThere on the sidewalk he did lay\n\nThey stopped ’n’ stared ’n’ walked their way\n\n\n\nWell, the p’liceman come and he looked around\n\n“Get up, old man, or I’m a-takin’ you down”\n\nHe jabbed him once with his billy club\n\nAnd the old man then rolled off the curb\n\n\n\nWell, he jabbed him again and loudly said\n\n“Call the wagon; this man is dead”\n\nThe wagon come, they loaded him in\n\nI never saw the man again\n\n\n\nI’ve sung you my song, it ain’t very long\n\n’Bout an old man who never done wrong\n\nHow he died no one can say\n\nThey found him dead in the street one day</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues</title> <lyrics>I saw it advertised one day\n\nBear Mountain picnic was comin’ my way\n\n“Come along ’n’ take a trip\n\nWe’ll bring you up there on a ship\n\nBring the wife and kids\n\nBring the whole family”\n\nYippee!\n\n\n\nWell, I run right down ’n’ bought a ticket\n\nTo this Bear Mountain Picnic\n\nBut little did I realize\n\nI was in for a picnic surprise\n\nHad nothin’ to do with mountains\n\nI didn’t even come close to a bear\n\n\n\nTook the wife ’n’ kids down to the pier\n\nSix thousand people there\n\nEverybody had a ticket for the trip\n\n“Oh well,” I said, “it’s a pretty big ship\n\nBesides, anyway, the more the merrier”\n\n\n\nWell, we all got on ’n’ what d’ya think\n\nThat big old boat started t’ sink\n\nMore people kept a-pilin’ on\n\nThat old ship was a-slowly goin’ down\n\nFunny way t’ start a picnic\n\n\n\nWell, I soon lost track of m’ kids ’n’ wife\n\nSo many people there I never saw in m’ life\n\nThat old ship sinkin’ down in the water\n\nSix thousand people tryin’ t’ kill each other\n\nDogs a-barkin’, cats a-meowin’\n\nWomen screamin’, fists a-flyin’, babies cryin’\n\nCops a-comin’, me a-runnin’\n\nMaybe we just better call off the picnic\n\n\n\nI got shoved down ’n’ pushed around\n\nAll I could hear there was a screamin’ sound\n\nDon’t remember one thing more\n\nJust remember wakin’ up on a little shore\n\nHead busted, stomach cracked\n\nFeet splintered, I was bald, naked . . .\n\nQuite lucky to be alive though\n\n\n\nFeelin’ like I climbed outa m’ casket\n\nI grabbed back hold of m’ picnic basket\n\nTook the wife ’n’ kids ’n’ started home\n\nWishin’ I’d never got up that morn\n\n\n\nNow, I don’t care just what you do\n\nIf you wanta have a picnic, that’s up t’ you\n\nBut don’t tell me about it, I don’t wanta hear it\n\n’Cause, see, I just lost all m’ picnic spirit\n\nStay in m’ kitchen, have m’ own picnic . . .\n\nIn the bathroom\n\n\n\nNow, it don’t seem to me quite so funny\n\nWhat some people are gonna do f’r money\n\nThere’s a bran’ new gimmick every day\n\nJust t’ take somebody’s money away\n\nI think we oughta take some o’ these people\n\nAnd put ’em on a boat, send ’em up to Bear Mountain . . .\n\nFor a picnic\n</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Let Me Die in My Footsteps</title> <lyrics>I will not go down under the ground\n\n’Cause somebody tells me that death’s comin’ ’round\n\nAn’ I will not carry myself down to die\n\nWhen I go to my grave my head will be high\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nThere’s been rumors of war and wars that have been\n\nThe meaning of life has been lost in the wind\n\nAnd some people thinkin’ that the end is close by\n\n’Stead of learnin’ to live they are learnin’ to die\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nI don’t know if I’m smart but I think I can see\n\nWhen someone is pullin’ the wool over me\n\nAnd if this war comes and death’s all around\n\nLet me die on this land ’fore I die underground\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nThere’s always been people that have to cause fear\n\nThey’ve been talking of the war now for many long years\n\nI have read all their statements and I’ve not said a word\n\nBut now Lawd God, let my poor voice be heard\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nIf I had rubies and riches and crowns\n\nI’d buy the whole world and change things around\n\nI’d throw all the guns and the tanks in the sea\n\nFor they are mistakes of a past history\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nLet me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood\n\nLet the smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood\n\nLet me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves\n\nLet me walk down the highway with my brother in peace\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nGo out in your country where the land meets the sun\n\nSee the craters and the canyons where the waterfalls run\n\nNevada, New Mexico, Arizona, Idaho\n\nLet every state in this union seep down deep in your souls\n\nAnd you’ll die in your footsteps\n\nBefore you go down under the ground</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Rambling, Gambling Willie</title> <lyrics>Come around you rovin’ gamblers and a story I will tell\n\nAbout the greatest gambler, you all should know him well\n\nHis name was Will O’Conley and he gambled all his life\n\nHe had twenty-seven children, yet he never had a wife\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nHe gambled in the White House and in the railroad yards\n\nWherever there was people, there was Willie and his cards\n\nHe had the reputation as the gamblin’est man around\n\nWives would keep their husbands home when Willie came to town\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nSailin’ down the Mississippi to a town called New Orleans\n\nThey’re still talkin’ about their card game on that Jackson River Queen\n\n“I’ve come to win some money,” Gamblin’ Willie says\n\nWhen the game finally ended up, the whole damn boat was his\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nUp in the Rocky Mountains in a town called Cripple Creek\n\nThere was an all-night poker game, lasted about a week\n\nNine hundred miners had laid their money down\n\nWhen Willie finally left the room, he owned the whole damn town\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nBut Willie had a heart of gold and this I know is true\n\nHe supported all his children and all their mothers too\n\nHe wore no rings or fancy things, like other gamblers wore\n\nHe spread his money far and wide, to help the sick and the poor\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nWhen you played your cards with Willie, you never really knew\n\nWhether he was bluffin’ or whether he was true\n\nHe won a fortune from a man who folded in his chair\n\nThe man, he left a diamond flush, Willie didn’t even have a pair\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nIt was late one evenin’ during a poker game\n\nA man lost all his money, he said Willie was to blame\n\nHe shot poor Willie through the head, which was a tragic fate\n\nWhen Willie’s cards fell on the floor, they were aces backed with eights\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nSo all you rovin’ gamblers, wherever you might be\n\nThe moral of the story is very plain to see\n\nMake your money while you can, before you have to stop\n\nFor when you pull that dead man’s hand, your gamblin’ days are up\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin’ Hava Negeilah Blues</title> <lyrics>Here's a foreign song I learned in Utah\n\nHa-va-ne-gei-lah\n\nO-de-ley-e-e-oo-</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Quit Your Low Down Ways</title> <lyrics>Oh, you can read out your Bible\n\nYou can fall down on your knees, pretty mama\n\nAnd pray to the Lord\n\nBut it ain’t gonna do no good.\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways\n\n\n\nWell, you can run down to the White House\n\nYou can gaze at the Capitol Dome, pretty mama\n\nYou can pound on the President’s gate\n\nBut you oughta know by now it’s gonna be too late\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways\n\n\n\nWell, you can run down to the desert\n\nThrow yourself on the burning sand\n\nYou can raise up your right hand, pretty mama\n\nBut you better understand you done lost your one good man\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways\n\n\n\nAnd you can hitchhike on the highway\n\nYou can stand all alone by the side of the road\n\nYou can try to flag a ride back home, pretty mama\n\nBut you can’t ride in my car no more\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways\n\n\n\nOh, you can read out your Bible\n\nYou can fall down on your knees, pretty mama\n\nAnd pray to the Lord\n\nBut it ain’t gonna do no good\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin' New York</title> <lyrics>Ramblin’ outa the wild West\n \n Leavin’ the towns I love the best\n \n Thought I’d seen some ups and downs\n \n ’Til I come into New York town\n \n People goin’ down to the ground\n \n Buildings goin’ up to the sky\n \n \n \n Wintertime in New York town\n \n The wind blowin’ snow around\n \n Walk around with nowhere to go\n \n Somebody could freeze right to the bone\n \n I froze right to the bone\n \n New York Times said it was the coldest winter in seventeen years\n \n I didn’t feel so cold then\n \n \n \n I swung onto my old guitar\n \n Grabbed hold of a subway car\n \n And after a rocking, reeling, rolling ride\n \n I landed up on the downtown side\n \n Greenwich Village\n \n \n \n I walked down there and ended up\n \n In one of them coffee-houses on the block\n \n Got on the stage to sing and play\n \n Man there said, “Come back some other day\n \n You sound like a hillbilly\n \n We want folk singers here”\n \n \n \n Well, I got a harmonica job, begun to play\n \n Blowin’ my lungs out for a dollar a day\n \n I blowed inside out and upside down\n \n The man there said he loved m’ sound\n \n He was ravin’ about how he loved m’ sound\n \n Dollar a day’s worth\n \n \n \n And after weeks and weeks of hangin’ around\n \n I finally got a job in New York town\n \n In a bigger place, bigger money too\n \n Even joined the union and paid m’ dues\n \n \n \n Now, a very great man once said\n \n That some people rob you with a fountain pen\n \n It didn’t take too long to find out\n \n Just what he was talkin’ about\n \n A lot of people don’t have much food on their table\n \n But they got a lot of forks ’n’ knives\n \n And they gotta cut somethin’\n \n \n \n So one mornin’ when the sun was warm\n \n I rambled out of New York town\n \n Pulled my cap down over my eyes\n \n And headed out for the western skies\n \n So long, New York\n \n Howdy, East Orange</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Song to Woody</title> <lyrics>I’m out here a thousand miles from my home\n \n Walkin’ a road other men have gone down\n \n I’m seein’ your world of people and things\n \n Your paupers and peasants and princes and kings\n \n \n \n Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song\n \n ’Bout a funny ol’ world that’s a-comin’ along\n \n Seems sick an’ it’s hungry, it’s tired an’ it’s torn\n \n It looks like it’s a-dyin’ an’ it’s hardly been born\n \n \n \n Hey, Woody Guthrie, but I know that you know\n \n All the things that I’m a-sayin’ an’ a-many times more\n \n I’m a-singin’ you the song, but I can’t sing enough\n \n ’Cause there’s not many men that done the things that you’ve done\n \n \n \n Here’s to Cisco an’ Sonny an’ Leadbelly too\n \n An’ to all the good people that traveled with you\n \n Here’s to the hearts and the hands of the men\n \n That come with the dust and are gone with the wind\n \n \n \n I’m a-leavin’ tomorrow, but I could leave today\n \n Somewhere down the road someday\n \n The very last thing that I’d want to do\n \n Is to say I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’ too</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Who Killed Davey Moore?</title> <lyrics>Who killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not I,” says the referee\n\n“Don’t point your finger at me\n\nI could’ve stopped it in the eighth\n\nAn’ maybe kept him from his fate\n\nBut the crowd would’ve booed, I’m sure\n\nAt not gettin’ their money’s worth\n\nIt’s too bad he had to go\n\nBut there was a pressure on me too, you know\n\nIt wasn’t me that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame me at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not us,” says the angry crowd\n\nWhose screams filled the arena loud\n\n“It’s too bad he died that night\n\nBut we just like to see a fight\n\nWe didn’t mean for him t’ meet his death\n\nWe just meant to see some sweat\n\nThere ain’t nothing wrong in that\n\nIt wasn’t us that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame us at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not me,” says his manager\n\nPuffing on a big cigar\n\n“It’s hard to say, it’s hard to tell\n\nI always thought that he was well\n\nIt’s too bad for his wife an’ kids he’s dead\n\nBut if he was sick, he should’ve said\n\nIt wasn’t me that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame me at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not me,” says the gambling man\n\nWith his ticket stub still in his hand\n\n“It wasn’t me that knocked him down\n\nMy hands never touched him none\n\nI didn’t commit no ugly sin\n\nAnyway, I put money on him to win\n\nIt wasn’t me that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame me at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not me,” says the boxing writer\n\nPounding print on his old typewriter\n\nSayin’, “Boxing ain’t to blame\n\nThere’s just as much danger in a football game”\n\nSayin’, “Fistfighting is here to stay\n\nIt’s just the old American way\n\nIt wasn’t me that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame me at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not me,” says the man whose fists\n\nLaid him low in a cloud of mist\n\nWho came here from Cuba’s door\n\nWhere boxing ain’t allowed no more\n\n“I hit him, yes, it’s true\n\nBut that’s what I am paid to do\n\nDon’t say ‘murder,’ don’t say ‘kill’\n\nIt was destiny, it was God’s will”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues</title> <lyrics>Well, I was feelin’ sad and feelin’ blue\n\nI didn’t know what in the world I wus gonna do\n\nThem Communists they wus comin’ around\n\nThey wus in the air\n\nThey wus on the ground\n\nThey wouldn’t gimme no peace . . .\n\n\n\nSo I run down most hurriedly\n\nAnd joined up with the John Birch Society\n\nI got me a secret membership card\n\nAnd started off a-walkin’ down the road\n\nYee-hoo, I’m a real John Bircher now!\n\nLook out you Commies!\n\n\n\nNow we all agree with Hitler’s views\n\nAlthough he killed six million Jews\n\nIt don’t matter too much that he was a Fascist\n\nAt least you can’t say he was a Communist!\n\nThat’s to say like if you got a cold you take a shot of malaria\n\n\n\nWell, I wus lookin’ everywhere for them gol-darned Reds\n\nI got up in the mornin’ ’n’ looked under my bed\n\nLooked in the sink, behind the door\n\nLooked in the glove compartment of my car\n\nCouldn’t find ’em . . .\n\n\n\nI wus lookin’ high an’ low for them Reds everywhere\n\nI wus lookin’ in the sink an’ underneath the chair\n\nI looked way up my chimney hole\n\nI even looked deep down inside my toilet bowl\n\nThey got away . . .\n\n\n\nWell, I wus sittin’ home alone an’ started to sweat\n\nFigured they wus in my T.V. set\n\nPeeked behind the picture frame\n\nGot a shock from my feet, hittin’ right up in the brain\n\nThem Reds caused it!\n\nI know they did . . . them hard-core ones\n\n\n\nWell, I quit my job so I could work all alone\n\nThen I changed my name to Sherlock Holmes\n\nFollowed some clues from my detective bag\n\nAnd discovered they wus red stripes on the American flag!\n\nThat ol’ Betsy Ross . . .\n\n\n\nWell, I investigated all the books in the library\n\nNinety percent of ’em gotta be burned away\n\nI investigated all the people that I knowed\n\nNinety-eight percent of them gotta go\n\nThe other two percent are fellow Birchers . . . just like me\n\n\n\nNow Eisenhower, he’s a Russian spy\n\nLincoln, Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy\n\nTo my knowledge there’s just one man\n\nThat’s really a true American: George Lincoln Rockwell\n\nI know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus\n\n\n\nWell, I fin’ly started thinkin’ straight\n\nWhen I run outa things to investigate\n\nCouldn’t imagine doin’ anything else\n\nSo now I’m sittin’ home investigatin’ myself!\n\nHope I don’t find out anything . . . hmm, great God!\n</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Paths of Victory</title> <lyrics>Trails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nI shall walk\n\n\n\nThe trail is dusty\n\nAnd my road it might be rough\n\nBut the better roads are waiting\n\nAnd boys it ain’t far off\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nI walked down by the river\n\nI turned my head up high\n\nI saw that silver linin’\n\nThat was hangin’ in the sky\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nThe evenin’ dusk was rollin’\n\nI was walking down the track\n\nThere was a one-way wind a-blowin’\n\nAnd it was blowin’ at my back\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nThe gravel road is bumpy\n\nIt’s a hard road to ride\n\nBut there’s a clearer road a-waitin’\n\nWith the cinders on the side\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nThat evening train was rollin’\n\nThe hummin’ of its wheels\n\nMy eyes they saw a better day\n\nAs I looked across the fields\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nThe trail is dusty\n\nThe road it might be rough\n\nBut the good road is a-waitin’\n\nAnd boys it ain’t far off\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Walls of Red Wing</title> <lyrics>Oh, the age of the inmates\n\nI remember quite freely:\n\nNo younger than twelve\n\nNo older ’n seventeen\n\nThrown in like bandits\n\nAnd cast off like criminals\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nFrom the dirty old mess hall\n\nYou march to the brick wall\n\nToo weary to talk\n\nAnd too tired to sing\n\nOh, it’s all afternoon\n\nYou remember your hometown\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nOh, the gates are cast iron\n\nAnd the walls are barbed wire\n\nStay far from the fence\n\nWith the ’lectricity sting\n\nAnd it’s keep down your head\n\nAnd stay in your number\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nOh, it’s fare thee well\n\nTo the deep hollow dungeon\n\nFarewell to the boardwalk\n\nThat takes you to the screen\n\nAnd farewell to the minutes\n\nThey threaten you with it\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nIt’s many a guard\n\nThat stands around smilin’\n\nHoldin’ his club\n\nLike he was a king\n\nHopin’ to get you\n\nBehind a wood pilin’\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nThe night aimed shadows\n\nThrough the crossbar windows\n\nAnd the wind punched hard\n\nTo make the wall-siding sing\n\nIt’s many a night\n\nI pretended to be a-sleepin’\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nAs the rain rattled heavy\n\nOn the bunkhouse shingles\n\nAnd the sounds in the night\n\nThey made my ears ring\n\n’Til the keys of the guards\n\nClicked the tune of the morning\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nOh, some of us’ll end up\n\nIn St. Cloud Prison\n\nAnd some of us’ll wind up\n\nTo be lawyers and things\n\nAnd some of us’ll stand up\n\nTo meet you on your crossroads\n\nFrom inside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie</title> <lyrics>When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb\n\nWhen you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb\n\nWhen yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace\n\nIn a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race\n\nNo matter what yer doing if you start givin' up\n\nIf the wine don't come to the top of yer cup\n\nIf the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on\n\nAnd the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone\n\nAnd yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it\n\nAnd the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it\n\nAnd yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long\n\nAnd you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong\n\nAnd lonesome comes up as down goes the day\n\nAnd tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away\n\nAnd you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'\n\nAnd yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'\n\nAnd yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys\n\nTurn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys\n\nAnd yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'\n\nAnd the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'\n\nAnd the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'\n\nAnd yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'\n\nAnd yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm\n\nAnd to yourself you sometimes say\n\nI never knew it was gonna be this way\n\nWhy didn't they tell me the day I was born\n\nAnd you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat\n\nAnd you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet\n\nAnd yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air\n\nAnd the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare\n\nAnd yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying\n\nAnd yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'\n\nAnd yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet\n\nAnd you need it badly but it lays on the street\n\nAnd yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat\n\nAnd you think yer ears might a been hurt\n\nOr yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt\n\nAnd you figured you failed in yesterdays rush\n\nWhen you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush\n\nAnd all the time you were holdin' three queens\n\nAnd it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean\n\nLike in the middle of Life magazine\n\nBouncin' around a pinball machine\n\nAnd there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying\n\nThat somebody someplace oughta be hearin'\n\nBut it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head\n\nAnd it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed\n\nAnd no matter how you try you just can't say it\n\nAnd yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it\n\nAnd yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head\n\nAnd yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead\n\nAnd the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth\n\nAnd his jaws start closin with you underneath\n\nAnd yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind\n\nAnd you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign\n\nAnd you say to yourself just what am I doin'\n\nOn this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'\n\nOn this curve I'm hanging\n\nOn this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking\n\nIn this air I'm inhaling\n\nAm I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard\n\nWhy am I walking, where am I running\n\nWhat am I saying, what am I knowing\n\nOn this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'\n\nOn this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'\n\nIn the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'\n\nIn the words that I'm thinkin'\n\nIn this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'\n\nWho am I helping, what am I breaking\n\nWhat am I giving, what am I taking\n\nBut you try with your whole soul best\n\nNever to think these thoughts and never to let\n\nThem kind of thoughts gain ground\n\nOr make yer heart pound\n\nBut then again you know why they're around\n\nJust waiting for a chance to slip and drop down\n\nCause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping\n\nAnd you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping\n\nAnd you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'\n\nAnd you can't remember for the best of yer thinking\n\nIf that was you in the dream that was screaming\n\nAnd you know that it's something special you're needin'\n\nAnd you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'\n\nAnd no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding\n\nAnd you need something special\n\nYeah, you need something special all right\n\nYou need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track\n\nTo shoot you someplace and shoot you back\n\nYou need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler\n\nThat's been banging and booming and blowing forever\n\nThat knows yer troubles a hundred times over\n\nYou need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race\n\nThat won't laugh at yer looks\n\nYour voice or your face\n\nAnd by any number of bets in the book\n\nWill be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze\n\nYou need something to open up a new door\n\nTo show you something you seen before\n\nBut overlooked a hundred times or more\n\nYou need something to open your eyes\n\nYou need something to make it known\n\nThat it's you and no one else that owns\n\nThat spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting\n\nThat the world ain't got you beat\n\nThat it ain't got you licked\n\nIt can't get you crazy no matter how many\n\nTimes you might get kicked\n\nYou need something special all right\n\nYou need something special to give you hope\n\nBut hope's just a word\n\nThat maybe you said or maybe you heard\n\nOn some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve\n\n\n\nBut that's what you need man, and you need it bad\n\nAnd yer trouble is you know it too good\n\nCause you look an' you start getting the chills\n\n\n\nCause you can't find it on a dollar bill\n\nAnd it ain't on Macy's window sill\n\nAnd it ain't on no rich kid's road map\n\nAnd it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house\n\nAnd it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ\n\nAnd it ain't on that dimlit stage\n\nWith that half-wit comedian on it\n\nRanting and raving and taking yer money\n\nAnd you thinks it's funny\n\nNo you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club\n\nAnd it ain't in the seats of a supper club\n\nAnd sure as hell you're bound to tell\n\nThat no matter how hard you rub\n\nYou just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub\n\nNo, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you\n\nAnd it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you\n\nAnd it ain't in no cardboard-box house\n\nOr down any movie star's blouse\n\nAnd you can't find it on the golf course\n\nAnd Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus\n\nAnd it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes\n\nAnd it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons\n\nAnd it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices\n\nThat come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'\n\nSayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin\n\nLook at my skin shine, look at my skin glow\n\nLook at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry\n\nWhen you can't even sense if they got any insides\n\nThese people so pretty in their ribbons and bows\n\nNo you'll not now or no other day\n\nFind it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache¥\n\nAnd inside it the people made of molasses\n\nThat every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses\n\nAnd it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies\n\nWho'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny\n\nWho breathe and burp and bend and crack\n\nAnd before you can count from one to ten\n\nDo it all over again but this time behind yer back\n\nMy friend\n\nThe ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl\n\nAnd play games with each other in their sand-box world\n\nAnd you can't find it either in the no-talent fools\n\nThat run around gallant\n\nAnd make all rules for the ones that got talent\n\nAnd it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do\n\nAnd think they're foolin' you\n\nThe ones who jump on the wagon\n\nJust for a while 'cause they know it's in style\n\nTo get their kicks, get out of it quick\n\nAnd make all kinds of money and chicks\n\nAnd you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat\n\nSayin', Christ do I gotta be like that\n\nAin't there no one here that knows where I'm at\n\nAin't there no one here that knows how I feel\n\nGood God Almighty\n\nTHAT STUFF AIN'T REAL\n\n\n\nNo but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race\n\nYou can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face\n\nYou gotta look some other place\n\nAnd where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'\n\nWhere do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'\n\nWhere do you look for this oil well gushin'\n\nWhere do you look for this candle that's glowin'\n\nWhere do you look for this hope that you know is there\n\nAnd out there somewhere\n\nAnd your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads\n\nYour eyes can only look through two kinds of windows\n\nYour nose can only smell two kinds of hallways\n\nYou can touch and twist\n\nAnd turn two kinds of doorknobs\n\nYou can either go to the church of your choice\n\nOr you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital\n\nYou'll find God in the church of your choice\n\nYou'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital\n\n\n\nAnd though it's only my opinion\n\nI may be right or wrong\n\nYou'll find them both\n\nIn the Grand Canyon\n\nAt sundown</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Down the Highway</title> <lyrics>Well, I’m walkin’ down the highway\n \n With my suitcase in my hand\n \n Yes, I’m walkin’ down the highway\n \n With my suitcase in my hand\n \n Lord, I really miss my baby\n \n She’s in some far-off land\n \n \n \n Well, your streets are gettin’ empty\n \n Lord, your highway’s gettin’ filled\n \n And your streets are gettin’ empty\n \n And your highway’s gettin’ filled\n \n Well, the way I love that woman\n \n I swear it’s bound to get me killed\n \n \n \n Well, I been gamblin’ so long\n \n Lord, I ain’t got much more to lose\n \n Yes, I been gamblin’ so long\n \n Lord, I ain’t got much more to lose\n \n Right now I’m havin’ trouble\n \n Please don’t take away my highway shoes\n \n \n \n Well, I’m bound to get lucky, baby\n \n Or I’m bound to die tryin’\n \n Yes, I’m a-bound to get lucky, baby\n \n Lord, Lord I’m a-bound to die tryin’\n \n Well, meet me in the middle of the ocean\n \n And we’ll leave this ol’ highway behind\n \n \n \n Well, the ocean took my baby\n \n My baby stole my heart from me\n \n Yes, the ocean took my baby\n \n My baby took my heart from me\n \n She packed it all up in a suitcase\n \n Lord, she took it away to Italy, Italy\n \n \n \n So, I’m a-walkin’ down your highway\n \n Just as far as my poor eyes can see\n \n Yes, I’m a-walkin’ down your highway\n \n Just as far as my eyes can see\n \n From the Golden Gate Bridge\n \n All the way to the Statue of Liberty</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Masters of War</title> <lyrics>Come you masters of war\n \n You that build all the guns\n \n You that build the death planes\n \n You that build the big bombs\n \n You that hide behind walls\n \n You that hide behind desks\n \n I just want you to know\n \n I can see through your masks\n \n \n \n You that never done nothin’\n \n But build to destroy\n \n You play with my world\n \n Like it’s your little toy\n \n You put a gun in my hand\n \n And you hide from my eyes\n \n And you turn and run farther\n \n When the fast bullets fly\n \n \n \n Like Judas of old\n \n You lie and deceive\n \n A world war can be won\n \n You want me to believe\n \n But I see through your eyes\n \n And I see through your brain\n \n Like I see through the water\n \n That runs down my drain\n \n \n \n You fasten the triggers\n \n For the others to fire\n \n Then you set back and watch\n \n When the death count gets higher\n \n You hide in your mansion\n \n As young people’s blood\n \n Flows out of their bodies\n \n And is buried in the mud\n \n \n \n You’ve thrown the worst fear\n \n That can ever be hurled\n \n Fear to bring children\n \n Into the world\n \n For threatening my baby\n \n Unborn and unnamed\n \n You ain’t worth the blood\n \n That runs in your veins\n \n \n \n How much do I know\n \n To talk out of turn\n \n You might say that I’m young\n \n You might say I’m unlearned\n \n But there’s one thing I know\n \n Though I’m younger than you\n \n Even Jesus would never\n \n Forgive what you do\n \n \n \n Let me ask you one question\n \n Is your money that good\n \n Will it buy you forgiveness\n \n Do you think that it could\n \n I think you will find\n \n When your death takes its toll\n \n All the money you made\n \n Will never buy back your soul\n \n \n \n And I hope that you die\n \n And your death’ll come soon\n \n I will follow your casket\n \n In the pale afternoon\n \n And I’ll watch while you’re lowered\n \n Down to your deathbed\n \n And I’ll stand o’er your grave\n \n ’Til I’m sure that you’re dead</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Bob Dylan's Blues</title> <lyrics>Well, the Lone Ranger and Tonto\n \n They are ridin’ down the line\n \n Fixin’ ev’rybody’s troubles\n \n Ev’rybody’s ’cept mine\n \n Somebody musta tol’ ’em\n \n That I was doin’ fine\n \n \n \n Oh you five and ten cent women\n \n With nothin’ in your heads\n \n I got a real gal I’m lovin’\n \n And Lord I’ll love her till I’m dead\n \n Go away from my door and my window too\n \n Right now\n \n \n \n Lord, I ain’t goin’ down to no race track\n \n See no sports car run\n \n I don’t have no sports car\n \n And I don’t even care to have one\n \n I can walk anytime around the block\n \n \n \n Well, the wind keeps a-blowin’ me\n \n Up and down the street\n \n With my hat in my hand\n \n And my boots on my feet\n \n Watch out so you don’t step on me\n \n \n \n Well, lookit here buddy\n \n You want to be like me\n \n Pull out your six-shooter\n \n And rob every bank you can see\n \n Tell the judge I said it was all right\n \n Yes!</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Walkin’ Down the Line</title> <lyrics>Well, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind\n\n\n\nI got a heavy-headed gal\n\nI got a heavy-headed gal\n\nI got a heavy-headed gal\n\nShe ain’t a-feelin’ well\n\nWhen she’s better only time will tell\n\n\n\nWell, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind\n\n\n\nMy money comes and goes\n\nMy money comes and goes\n\nMy money comes and goes\n\nAnd rolls and flows and rolls and flows\n\nThrough the holes in the pockets in my clothes\n\n\n\nWell, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind\n\n\n\nI see the morning light\n\nI see the morning light\n\nWell, it’s not because\n\nI’m an early riser\n\nI didn’t go to sleep last night\n\n\n\nWell, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind\n\n\n\nI got my walkin’ shoes\n\nI got my walkin’ shoes\n\nI got my walkin’ shoes\n\nAn’ I ain’t a-gonna lose\n\nI believe I got the walkin’ blues\n\n\n\nWell, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Only a Hobo</title> <lyrics>As I was out walking on a corner one day\n\nI spied an old hobo, in a doorway he lay\n\nHis face was all grounded in the cold sidewalk floor\n\nAnd I guess he’d been there for the whole night or more\n\n\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\nLeavin’ nobody to sing his sad song\n\nLeavin’ nobody to carry him home\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\n\n\nA blanket of newspaper covered his head\n\nAs the curb was his pillow, the street was his bed\n\nOne look at his face showed the hard road he’d come\n\nAnd a fistful of coins showed the money he bummed\n\n\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\nLeavin’ nobody to sing his sad song\n\nLeavin’ nobody to carry him home\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\n\n\nDoes it take much of a man to see his whole life go down\n\nTo look up on the world from a hole in the ground\n\nTo wait for your future like a horse that’s gone lame\n\nTo lie in the gutter and die with no name?\n\n\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\nLeavin’ nobody to sing his sad song\n\nLeavin’ nobody to carry him home\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Girl from the North Country</title> <lyrics>Well, if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair\n \n Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline\n \n Remember me to one who lives there\n \n She once was a true love of mine\n \n \n \n Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm\n \n When the rivers freeze and summer ends\n \n Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm\n \n To keep her from the howlin’ winds\n \n \n \n Please see for me if her hair hangs long,\n \n If it rolls and flows all down her breast.\n \n Please see for me if her hair hangs long,\n \n That’s the way I remember her best.\n \n \n \n I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all\n \n Many times I’ve often prayed\n \n In the darkness of my night\n \n In the brightness of my day\n \n \n \n So if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair\n \n Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline\n \n Remember me to one who lives there\n \n She once was a true love of mine</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Blowin' in the wind</title> <lyrics>How many roads must a man walk down\n \n Before you call him a man?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many seas must a white dove sail\n \n Before she sleeps in the sand?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many times must the cannonballs fly\n \n Before they’re forever banned?\n \n The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind\n \n The answer is blowin’ in the wind\n \n \n \n How many years can a mountain exist\n \n Before it’s washed to the sea?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many years can some people exist\n \n Before they’re allowed to be free?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many times can a man turn his head\n \n Pretending he just doesn’t see?\n \n The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind\n \n The answer is blowin’ in the wind\n \n \n \n How many times must a man look up\n \n Before he can see the sky?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many ears must one man have\n \n Before he can hear people cry?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows\n \n That too many people have died?\n \n The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind\n \n The answer is blowin’ in the wind</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall</title> <lyrics>Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?\n \n Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?\n \n I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains\n \n I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways\n \n I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests\n \n I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans\n \n I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard\n \n And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard\n \n And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall\n \n \n \n Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?\n \n Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?\n \n I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it\n \n I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it\n \n I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’\n \n I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’\n \n I saw a white ladder all covered with water\n \n I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken\n \n I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children\n \n And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard\n \n And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall\n \n \n \n And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?\n \n And what did you hear, my darling young one?\n \n I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’\n \n Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world\n \n Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’\n \n Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’\n \n Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’\n \n Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter\n \n Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley\n \n And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard\n \n And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall\n \n \n \n Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?\n \n Who did you meet, my darling young one?\n \n I met a young child beside a dead pony\n \n I met a white man who walked a black dog\n \n I met a young woman whose body was burning\n \n I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow\n \n I met one man who was wounded in love\n \n I met another man who was wounded with hatred\n \n And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard\n \n It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall\n \n \n \n Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?\n \n Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?\n \n I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’\n \n I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest\n \n Where the people are many and their hands are all empty\n \n Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters\n \n Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison\n \n Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden\n \n Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten\n \n Where black is the color, where none is the number\n \n And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it\n \n And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it\n \n Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’\n \n But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’\n \n And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard\n \n It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Oxford Town</title> <lyrics>Oxford Town, Oxford Town\n \n Ev’rybody’s got their heads bowed down\n \n The sun don’t shine above the ground\n \n Ain’t a-goin’ down to Oxford Town\n \n \n \n He went down to Oxford Town\n \n Guns and clubs followed him down\n \n All because his face was brown\n \n Better get away from Oxford Town\n \n \n \n Oxford Town around the bend\n \n He come in to the door, he couldn’t get in\n \n All because of the color of his skin\n \n What do you think about that, my frien’?\n \n \n \n Me and my gal, my gal’s son\n \n We got met with a tear gas bomb\n \n I don’t even know why we come\n \n Goin’ back where we come from\n \n \n \n Oxford Town in the afternoon\n \n Ev’rybody singin’ a sorrowful tune\n \n Two men died ’neath the Mississippi moon\n \n Somebody better investigate soon\n \n \n \n Oxford Town, Oxford Town\n \n Ev’rybody’s got their heads bowed down\n \n The sun don’t shine above the ground\n \n Ain’t a-goin’ down to Oxford Town</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Eternal Circle</title> <lyrics>I sang the song slowly\n\nAs she stood in the shadows\n\nShe stepped to the light\n\nAs my silver strings spun\n\nShe called with her eyes\n\nTo the tune I’s a-playin’\n\nBut the song it was long\n\nAnd I’d only begun\n\n\n\nThrough a bullet of light\n\nHer face was reflectin’\n\nThe fast fading words\n\nThat rolled from my tongue\n\nWith a long-distance look\n\nHer eyes was on fire\n\nBut the song it was long\n\nAnd there was more to be sung\n\n\n\nMy eyes danced a circle\n\nAcross her clear outline\n\nWith her head tilted sideways\n\nShe called me again\n\nAs the tune drifted out\n\nShe breathed hard through the echo\n\nBut the song it was long\n\nAnd it was far to the end\n\n\n\nI glanced at my guitar\n\nAnd played it pretendin’\n\nThat of all the eyes out there\n\nI could see none\n\nAs her thoughts pounded hard\n\nLike the pierce of an arrow\n\nBut the song it was long\n\nAnd it had to get done\n\n\n\nAs the tune finally folded\n\nI laid down the guitar\n\nThen looked for the girl\n\nWho’d stayed for so long\n\nBut her shadow was missin’\n\nFor all of my searchin’\n\nSo I picked up my guitar\n\nAnd began the next song</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Corrina, Corrina</title> <lyrics>Corrina, Corrina\n \n Gal, where you been so long?\n \n Corrina, Corrina\n \n Gal, where you been so long?\n \n I been worr’in’ ’bout you, baby\n \n Baby, please come home\n \n \n \n I got a bird that whistles\n \n I got a bird that sings\n \n I got a bird that whistles\n \n I got a bird that sings\n \n But I ain’ a-got Corrina\n \n Life don’t mean a thing\n \n \n \n Corrina, Corrina\n \n Gal, you’re on my mind\n \n Corrina, Corrina\n \n Gal, you’re on my mind\n \n I’m a-thinkin’ ’bout you, baby\n \n I just can’t keep from crying.</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin' World War III Blues</title> <lyrics>Some time ago a crazy dream came to me\n \n I dreamt I was walkin’ into World War Three\n \n I went to the doctor the very next day\n \n To see what kinda words he could say\n \n He said it was a bad dream\n \n I wouldn’t worry ’bout it none, though\n \n They were my own dreams and they’re only in my head\n \n \n \n I said, “Hold it, Doc, a World War passed through my brain”\n \n He said, “Nurse, get your pad, this boy’s insane”\n \n He grabbed my arm, I said, “Ouch!”\n \n As I landed on the psychiatric couch\n \n He said, “Tell me about it”\n \n \n \n Well, the whole thing started at 3 o’clock fast\n \n It was all over by quarter past\n \n I was down in the sewer with some little lover\n \n When I peeked out from a manhole cover\n \n Wondering who turned the lights on\n \n \n \n Well, I got up and walked around\n \n And up and down the lonesome town\n \n I stood a-wondering which way to go\n \n I lit a cigarette on a parking meter and walked on down the road\n \n It was a normal day\n \n \n \n Well, I rung the fallout shelter bell\n \n And I leaned my head and I gave a yell\n \n “Give me a string bean, I’m a hungry man”\n \n A shotgun fired and away I ran\n \n I don’t blame them too much though, I know I look funny\n \n \n \n Down at the corner by a hot-dog stand\n \n I seen a man\n \n I said, “Howdy friend, I guess there’s just us two”\n \n He screamed a bit and away he flew\n \n Thought I was a Communist\n \n \n \n Well, I spied a girl and before she could leave\n \n “Let’s go and play Adam and Eve”\n \n I took her by the hand and my heart it was thumpin’\n \n When she said, “Hey man, you crazy or sumpin’\n \n You see what happened last time they started”\n \n \n \n Well, I seen a Cadillac window uptown\n \n And there was nobody aroun’\n \n I got into the driver’s seat\n \n And I drove down 42nd Street\n \n In my Cadillac. Good car to drive after a war\n \n \n \n Well, I remember seein’ some ad\n \n So I turned on my Conelrad\n \n But I didn’t pay my Con Ed bill\n \n So the radio didn’t work so well\n \n Turned on my record player—\n \n It was Rock-a-day Johnny singin’, “Tell Your Ma, Tell Your Pa\n \n Our Love’s A-gonna Grow Ooh-wah, Ooh-wah”\n \n \n \n I was feelin’ kinda lonesome and blue\n \n I needed somebody to talk to\n \n So I called up the operator of time\n \n Just to hear a voice of some kind\n \n “When you hear the beep it will be three o’clock”\n \n She said that for over an hour\n \n And I hung up\n \n \n \n Well, the doctor interrupted me just about then\n \n Sayin’, “Hey I’ve been havin’ the same old dreams\n \n But mine was a little different you see\n \n I dreamt that the only person left after the war was me\n \n I didn’t see you around”\n \n \n \n Well, now time passed and now it seems\n \n Everybody’s having them dreams\n \n Everybody sees themselves\n \n Walkin’ around with no one else\n \n Half of the people can be part right all of the time\n \n Some of the people can be all right part of the time\n \n But all of the people can’t be all right all of the time\n \n I think Abraham Lincoln said that\n \n “I’ll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours”\n \n I said that</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>I Shall Be Free</title> <lyrics>Well, I took me a woman late last night\n \n I’s three-fourths drunk, she looked uptight\n \n She took off her wheel, took off her bell\n \n Took off her wig, said, “How do I smell?\n \n I hot-footed it . . . bare-naked . . .\n \n Out the window!\n \n \n \n Well, sometimes I might get drunk\n \n Walk like a duck and stomp like a skunk\n \n Don’t hurt me none, don’t hurt my pride\n \n ’Cause I got my little lady right by my side\n \n (Right there\n \n Proud as can be)\n \n \n \n I’s out there paintin’ on the old woodshed\n \n When a can a black paint it fell on my head\n \n I went down to scrub and rub\n \n But I had to sit in back of the tub\n \n (Cost a quarter\n \n And I had to get out quick . . .\n \n Someone wanted to come in and take a sauna)\n \n \n \n Well, my telephone rang it would not stop\n \n It’s President Kennedy callin’ me up\n \n He said, “My friend, Bob, what do we need to make the country grow?”\n \n I said, “My friend, John, Brigitte Bardot\n \n Anita Ekberg\n \n Sophia Loren”\n \n (Put ’em all in the same room with Ernest Borgnine!)\n \n \n \n Well, I got a woman sleeps on a cot\n \n She yells and hollers and squeals a lot\n \n Licks my face and tickles my ear\n \n Bends me over and buys me beer\n \n (She’s a honeymooner\n \n A June crooner\n \n A spoon feeder\n \n And a natural leader)\n \n \n \n Oh, there ain’t no use in me workin’ so heavy\n \n I got a woman who works on the levee\n \n Pumping that water up to her neck\n \n Every week she sends me a monthly check\n \n (She’s a humdinger\n \n Folk singer\n \n Dead ringer\n \n For a thing-a-muh jigger)\n \n \n \n Late one day in the middle of the week\n \n Eyes were closed I was half asleep\n \n I chased me a woman up the hill\n \n Right in the middle of an air-raid drill\n \n It was Little Bo Peep!\n \n (I jumped a fallout shelter\n \n I jumped a bean stalk\n \n I jumped a Ferris wheel)\n \n \n \n Now, the man on the stand he wants my vote\n \n He’s a-runnin’ for office on the ballot note\n \n He’s out there preachin’ in front of the steeple\n \n Tellin’ me he loves all kinds-a people\n \n (He’s eatin’ bagels\n \n He’s eatin’ pizza\n \n He’s eatin’ chitlins\n \n He’s eatin’ bullshit!)\n \n \n \n Oh, set me down on a television floor\n \n I’ll flip the channel to number four\n \n Out of the shower comes a grown-up man\n \n With a bottle of hair oil in his hand\n \n (It’s that greasy kid stuff\n \n What I want to know, Mr. Football Man, is\n \n What do you do about Willy Mays and Yul Brynner\n \n Charles de Gaulle\n \n And Robert Louis Stevenson?)\n \n \n \n Well, the funniest woman I ever seen\n \n Was the great-granddaughter of Mr. Clean\n \n She takes about fifteen baths a day\n \n Wants me to grow a cigar on my face\n \n (She’s a little bit heavy!)\n \n \n \n Well, ask me why I’m drunk alla time\n \n It levels my head and eases my mind\n \n I just walk along and stroll and sing\n \n I see better days and I do better things\n \n (I catch dinosaurs\n \n I make love to Elizabeth Taylor . . .\n \n Catch hell from Richard Burton!)</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Bob Dylan's Dream</title> <lyrics>While riding on a train goin’ west\n \n I fell asleep for to take my rest\n \n I dreamed a dream that made me sad\n \n Concerning myself and the first few friends I had\n \n \n \n With half-damp eyes I stared to the room\n \n Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon\n \n Where we together weathered many a storm\n \n Laughin’ and singin’ till the early hours of the morn\n \n \n \n By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung\n \n Our words were told, our songs were sung\n \n Where we longed for nothin’ and were quite satisfied\n \n Talkin’ and a-jokin’ about the world outside\n \n \n \n With haunted hearts through the heat and cold\n \n We never thought we could ever get old\n \n We thought we could sit forever in fun\n \n But our chances really was a million to one\n \n \n \n As easy it was to tell black from white\n \n It was all that easy to tell wrong from right\n \n And our choices were few and the thought never hit\n \n That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split\n \n \n \n How many a year has passed and gone\n \n And many a gamble has been lost and won\n \n And many a road taken by many a friend\n \n And each one I’ve never seen again\n \n \n \n I wish, I wish, I wish in vain\n \n That we could sit simply in that room again\n \n Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat\n \n I’d give it all gladly if our lives could be like that</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Honey, Just Allow Me One More Chance</title> <lyrics>Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n To get along with you\n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n Ah’ll do anything with you\n \n Well, I’m a-walkin’ down the road\n \n With my head in my hand\n \n I’m lookin’ for a woman\n \n Needs a worried man\n \n Just-a one kind favor I ask you\n \n ’Low me just-a one more chance\n \n \n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n To ride your aeroplane\n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n To ride your passenger train\n \n Well, I’ve been lookin’ all over\n \n For a gal like you\n \n I can’t find nobody\n \n So you’ll have to do\n \n Just-a one kind favor I ask you\n \n ’Low me just-a one more chance\n \n \n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n To get along with you\n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n Ah’ll do anything with you\n \n Well, lookin’ for a woman\n \n That ain’t got no man\n \n Is just lookin’ for a needle\n \n That is lost in the sand\n \n Just-a one kind favor I ask you\n \n ’Low me just-a one more chance</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Don't think twice, It's All Right</title> <lyrics>It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe\n \n It don’t matter, anyhow\n \n An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe\n \n If you don’t know by now\n \n When your rooster crows at the break of dawn\n \n Look out your window and I’ll be gone\n \n You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on\n \n Don’t think twice, it’s all right\n \n \n \n It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe\n \n That light I never knowed\n \n An’ it ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe\n \n I’m on the dark side of the road\n \n Still I wish there was somethin’ you would do or say\n \n To try and make me change my mind and stay\n \n We never did too much talkin’ anyway\n \n So don’t think twice, it’s all right\n \n \n \n It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, gal\n \n Like you never did before\n \n It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, gal\n \n I can’t hear you anymore\n \n I’m a-thinkin’ and a-wond’rin’ all the way down the road\n \n I once loved a woman, a child I’m told\n \n I give her my heart but she wanted my soul\n \n But don’t think twice, it’s all right\n \n \n \n I’m walkin’ down that long, lonesome road, babe\n \n Where I’m bound, I can’t tell\n \n But goodbye’s too good a word, gal\n \n So I’ll just say fare thee well\n \n I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind\n \n You could have done better but I don’t mind\n \n You just kinda wasted my precious time\n \n But don’t think twice, it’s all right</lyrics>"}