Search results for by i been to you album bob dylan

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This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the Windsong album, and has also been released on the Country Classics album.


Sing songs
Hey, Bob Dylan, I wrote you a song
Today is your birthday if I'm not wrong
If I'm not mistaken, you're 50 today
How are you doin', Bob? What do you
Written by Bob Dylan
Copyright 1964 M Whitmark & Sons/ Warner Chappell Music (ASCAP)


It might be the color of the sun cut flat
And covering
Bob- Okay, good day, this is our Christmas part of the album,
and you can play this at your Christmas parties, uh,
or to yourself on Christmas Eve,
"you can be the new mist me, me, me
Ain't it true that's what you want to be, yesiree bob
And I'll be somewhere sunny where it's funny and it's free
Last week, uh, in Nashville, Bob Dylan, one of the top writers
Well, I don't need to tell you who Bob Dylan is
The greatest writer of our time was
Glad you came, glad you're here.
Have some champagne, imported beer.
Dig down in your dirt bag
And roll us out a spliff.

Been erect here now
Bob Dylan

Perhaps it's the color of the sun cut flat uncovering the cross roads I am standing at
Or maybe it's the weather or something like that
Man, those were the days (those were the days)
We listened to the songs Bob Dylan wrote
We sat there stoned and amazed
We forgot to eat, we forgot
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!
Would you please welcome Columbia recording artist Bob Dylan.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory,
(Bob Dylan)
I got on a train
I can't buy a thrill
Well I been up all night, child
Leaning on a window sill
But if I die on top of the hill
If I don't
on
How long not long been to the mountain top
How long not long till Jesus calls me home

Verse

You always have the poor I prepare a place for you
My cup
Lyrics as performed by Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, Hughes Stadium, Colorado
University, Fort Collins, CO, 23 May 1976,
Transcribed by Manfred Helfert.
and what Bob Dylan says
I think she's tryin' to turn me into Joan Baez

Oh Mom, can't you tell me where your head's at?
I'm sick to death of hearing about
SPANISH HARLEM INCIDENT
WITH THE POZO SECO SINGERS
WRITER BOB DYLAN


Gypsy gal, the hands of Harlem
Cannot hold you to its heat.
Your temperature's
I keep having dreams
Of pioneers and pirate ships and Bob Dylan
Of people wrapped up tight in the things that will kill them
Of being trapped in
'cause institution's like a big bright lie
And it blinds you into fear and consuming and fight
And you've been in the desert underneath the charging sky
been thinking bout?"
Bob said, "that's the point. I won't think bout nothing.
Now I gotta do something else

To pass the time
Had someone shave his
to be like Bob Dylan
Until I discovered Moses
Saturday night and I was lying in my bed
The window was open and raindrops
Were bouncing off my head
Bob- Okay, good day, this is our Christmas part of the album,
and you can play this at your Christmas parties, uh,
or to yourself on Christmas Eve,
IT TAKES A LOT TO LAUGH, IT TAKES A TRAIN TO CRY
WRITER BOB DYLAN

Well, I ride on a mail train, baby,
Can't buy a thrill.
Well, I've been up all
right
Somebody want they soul to rise
I'll chase you off of this earth

I got dreams of holdin' a Nine milla to Bobs killa
Askin' him why? as my eyes
Los Angele's, like an evangelist
I can introduce you to your maker
Bring you closer to nature
Ashes after they cremate you bastards
Hope you been
Bob- Okay, good day, this is our Christmas part of the album,
and you can play this at your Christmas parties, uh,
or to yourself on Christmas Eve,
Bob Dylan is my father, Joan Baez is my mother
And I'm their bastard son
Though my roots show through I'm just twenty two
I don't belong to anyone