Monday, August 17, 2015

Santa Fe

Bob's roaming around.
His woman says he can stay.
She's in Santa Fe.

This is another one of those Bob Dylan and the Band Basement Tapes songs that seems to have little lyrical center or serious intent, and that's just fine. Now, that's the song as it appeared in 1967 when it was recorded (and how it sounded when it was released in 1991 in the first of the Bootleg Series albums). The lyrics published on Dylan's website in 1973 differ remarkably. Have a look:

1967 original

Sante Fe,
dear dear dear dear dear Sante Fe
My woman needs every day
She promised to let me stay
She's rollin' up a knot to pray to gods away
She's in Sante Fe
Dear dear dear dear dear Santa Fe.
Now she opens up and lets me home
She's brown but she keeps from roam
She'll open up a happy home
She'll think when will that be warm in Sante Fe.

Sante Fe, dear dear dear dear Sante Fe
She's arms never teach to roam
They're never never far from home
I'll never ever ever roam
To sail away
She's all feel bad
No no no no don't don't don't feel bad
She's the worst thing he's ever had
She's a mad, man that he's so glad
She's over above the hat to bad
She's never disappear so bad
I went away.

Sante Fe, dear dear dear dear dear dear Sante Fe
My own heart city lay
I won't have a nature way
And I'm leavin' every day to run away
From Sante Fe, dear dear dear dear dear Sante Fe.
My woman's left sittin' at home
She's actin' the police unknown
She cried like an evening stone
She leap back under a broom
But she ain't gonna find a room
And the tears send her on own ever day.


1973 rewrite

Santa Fe, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa Fe
My woman needs it ev’ryday
She promised this a-lad she’d stay
She’s rollin’ up a lotta bread to toss away

She’s in Santa Fe, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa Fe
Now she’s opened up an old maid’s home
She’s proud, but she needs to roam
She’s gonna write herself a roadside poem about Santa Fe

Santa Fe, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa Fe
Since I’m never gonna cease to roam
I’m never, ever far from home
But I’ll build a geodesic dome and sail away

Don’t feel bad, no, no, no, no, don’t feel bad
It’s the best food I’ve ever had
Makes me feel so glad
That she’s cooking in a homemade pad
She never caught a cold so bad when I’m away

Santa Fe, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa Fe
My shrimp boat’s in the bay
I won’t have my nature this way
And I’m leanin’ on the wheel each day to drift away from

Santa Fe, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa Fe
My sister looks good at home
She’s lickin’ on an ice cream cone
She’s packin’ her big white comb
What does it weigh?



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