You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

He loves you so much,
He'll be lonely when you go.
Maybe change your plans.

"You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go" is the last song on the first side of the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks." You could see it as a breakup song or maybe even a song about death. Appearing amidst the carnage of broken love that's splattered all over this album, it carries at its heart a strange hope, as if love's only doom in a perfect situation is death, and even then love will outlast the end of one of its parties.

- Love this time: close, easy, slow.
- Until now he was "shooting in the dark too long" and all was wrong. 
- Before: careless love. Now: correct, on target, direct.
- Beautiful colors of the clover, Queen Anne's Lace and your red hair. You could make him cry. Before: can't remember what he was thinking about. Your love spoils him.
- Flowers and crickets and the lazy blue river. "I could stay with you forever and never realize the time."
- Before: bad relationships, sad relationships, relationships like that of Verlaine and Rimbaud. Now: this is much better.
- Why would he ever be without you? He should sit right down and write himself a letter.
- Where you might be: Honolulaaah, San Francisco, Ashtabula. Now you're gone, but I'll see you in the sky, the grass and my loved ones.
And the end of each verse carries the title...

You're a Big Girl Now

He's sighing, crying,
And learning to love too late --
You're already gone

"You're a Big Girl Now" has got to be the saddest breakup song that I've ever heard. The third song on "Blood on the Tracks" from 1975, it is often nearly too much to take, at least for me. It's a great song, but I can understand where Dylan was coming from when he said in his cranky way to an interviewer that he doesn't understand how people can consider the projection of such pain "entertainment."

Some excerpts:
Bird on the horizon, sittin’ on a fence
He’s singin’ his song for me at his own expense
And I’m just like that bird, oh, oh
Singin’ just for you
I hope that you can hear
Hear me singin’ through these tears

Time is a jet plane, it moves too fast
Oh, but what a shame if all we’ve shared can’t last
I can change, I swear, oh, oh
See what you can do
I can make it through
You can make it too

A change in the weather is known to be extreme
But what’s the sense of changing horses in midstream?
I’m going out of my mind, oh, oh
With a pain that stops and starts
Like a corkscrew to my heart
Ever since we’ve been apart

You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

Stay right where you are.
Your bride's coming. Genghis Khan
Has other problems.

I don't know how to describe this song, which Dylan and the Band recorded during the 1967 Basement Tapes sessions. Here are the lyrics, which are a masterpiece of sweet and weird at the same time. The lyrics will have to do.

Clouds so swift
Rain won’t lift
Gate won’t close
Railings froze
Get your mind off wintertime
You ain’t goin’ nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow’s the day
My bride’s gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!

I don’t care
How many letters they sent
Morning came and morning went
Pick up your money
And pack up your tent
You ain’t goin’ nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow’s the day
My bride’s gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!

Buy me a flute
And a gun that shoots
Tailgates and substitutes
Strap yourself
To the tree with roots
You ain’t goin’ nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow’s the day
My bride’s gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!

Genghis Khan
He could not keep
All his kings
Supplied with sleep
We’ll climb that hill no matter how steep
When we get up to it
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow’s the day
My bride’s gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!

Yea! Heavy and a Bottle of Bread

Catch the bus with Bob.
Pack the bread and the meat and
Go fishing for trout.

You can't ignore a song with a name like "Yea! Heavy and a Bottle of Bread." What Bob Dylan was thinking about when he and the Band came up with this in 1967 is anybody's guess, but many of the Basement Tapes songs are like that. Apparently a bottle of bread is a thing, by the way. This is also a thoroughly charming song. It was one of the ones selected for release on the double-album "The Basement Tapes" in 1975, and also appears on volume 11 of the Bootleg Series.

Story:
Comic book and I get on a bus. The chauffer stays home with a nose full of pus. YEA! Heavy and a bottle of bread!
This is a brown one-track town. Let's pack up the meet, sweet. We're off to Wichita to catch a trout.
See that drummer behind the bottle? Pull him out. Gonna shake my pipe, then slap the drummer with a smelly pie. Then let's go to California.

Too Much of Nothing

Too much of nothing
Makes a man make bad choices
Like lying and such.

If you dig around the Internet enough, you’ll see that this is one of several Bob Dylan songs that some people say is rooted in “King Lear” by William Shakespeare, with its fear of the void, the resentment a parent feels at resentful children and its futile railing against nothingness. I suppose that this is possible. I see more of the kind of backwoods moralizing of the Farmer’s Almanac again, which is a theme common to many of the Basement Tapes recordings from 1967. The reference to T.S. Eliot and his wives,

Say hello to Valerie
Say hello to Vivian
Send them all my salary
On the waters of oblivion
 I don’t understand at all. Writer Tony Atwood suggests that the song is about Eliot and his wives, using nods to “The Wasteland” to buttress his contention that Dylan was expressing the idea of madness in this song, particularly about Eliot’s wife Vivienne, whom Eliot had committed and never visited again, instead marrying Valerie, who was 38 years younger than he. 

The effects of too much nothing:
A man can feel ill at ease.
One man’s temper rises. Another’s freezes.
No one has control. (Don’t mock souls on confession day)
Too much nothing makes people boastful, even to the point of abusing the king.
But they don’t know a thing.
This all has been written in the book, but “when there’s too much of nothing, nobody should look.”
Turns men to liars. Some sleep on nails, others eat fire.

Makes a fella mean.

Tiny Montgomery

Better grease that pig
Because the king of the drunks
Is coming to party.

The nickname “Tiny” usually is applied to someone who is large, so I’m assuming that the “Tiny Montgomery” of this 1967 Basement Tapes song is a big drunkard who’s coming to town and one of his friends is announcing to a bunch of people in San Francisco (or maybe Frisco, Texas) that Tiny’s coming to town to shake things up and have a good time. The lyrics on this song, like many of the Basement Tapes songs, veer toward silliness and comedy. The names, especially, evoke images of old-time bars and bruisers and knuckleheads:

Tiny’s coming to Frisco.
He’s gonna “shake that thing” when he gets there, which will give every boy and girl a bang.
Skinny Moo and Half-Track Frank are about to get out of the joint. 
There’s a buzzard and crow in here too. Tell them Tiny says hello.
“Scratch your dad, do that bird, suck that pig and bring it on home. Pick that drip and bake that dough. Tell ‘em all that Tiny says hello.”
He squeezes too. “Watch out, Lester, take it, Lou.”
Tell the monks and the CIO that Tiny says hello.
Now grease that pig, and sing praise. Go on out and gas that dog. Trick on in, honk that stink, take it on down and watch it grow…”
Tell the three-legged man and the hot-lipped hoe that Tiny says hello

This Wheel's on Fire

We will meet again.
You asked me for favors. Well,
I tried, but no luck.

This is one of the more popular and memorable songs from the 1967 Basement Tapes sessions, and was first popularized by the Band on their first album, "Music From Big Pink" from 1968. To me, it's a mysterious, complicated song, warning of some kind of doom just around the bend.

1. I'm going to sit and wait for you because you know we were fated to meet again. "No man alive will come to you with another tale to tell." There's a fiery wheel rolling down the road, and it may explode while I'm near it. Better tell my next of kin now.
2. If you remember, my plan was to take your lace and wrap it in a sailor's knot and hide it in your case. But I don't know if it's really yours.
3. You were the one who wanted me to do things for you. And that's all there is to it. That and the fact that we are fated to meet again.

Tears of Rage

Family grieves about
A daughter whom they raised right,
But turns out wrong instead.

"Tears of Rage" is one of those songs that Dylanologists love to pore over and extol. And you know, it's probably worth it in this case. This three-verse dirge for a wayward daughter -- or maybe a wayward country -- that has resisted or ignored all attempts to give it a good upbringing, and has most decidedly gone bad. Some see in this song a scolding of the United States, brought up on high ideals and a dream, ripping itself apart over a useless war, betrayal of those ideals, and an obsession with the enrichment of wealth.

Verse 1: They carried her in their arms on Independence Day, but now she throws them aside. What kind of daughter would do that to her doting father? "Tears of rage, tears of grief, Why must I always be the thief? Come to me now, you know we're so alone, and life is brief."
Verse 2: They gave her instructions and wrote her name in the sand (like the shifting sands of time), but she saw it as only a convenient place for her to stand. When she discovered that there were no true people, no true ideals, they stood around and watched and thought she was just acting like a child.
Verse 3: It didn't hurt, they didn't notice, when she filled her head with false instruction. "And now the heart is filled with gold as though it was a purse, but oh what kind of love is this that goes from bad to worse?"

Tangled Up in Blue

A couple breaks up.
He sorts of meets her later,
But he keeps drifting.

"Tangled Up in Blue" is one of Bob Dylan's signature tunes. The opening track of the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks" is instantly recognizable and arguably as fundamental a part of Dylan's work as "Blowin' in the Wind" or "The Times They Are a-Changin'" or "Like a Rolling Stone." Unlike these songs, "Tangled Up in Blue" is an only slightly detached account of a relationship and two lives and how their connection fell apart without ever really being severed. You could argue that the song is far too personal and, in its way self pitying, to resonate with such a wide audience, but I think that people who love the song identify with the sad drifters/lost lovers of the song. I don't; I like the song for its strong if sometimes vague storytelling, and for the music that keeps pushing the song forward. It's also noteworthy for its changing narrative perspectives and its apparent disregard of linear time.

How tangled?
1. He's lying in bed wondering what she's like nowadays. He should have known it wouldn't work out. Her parents said as much. They thought his parents were too poor for her (mama's homemade dress, daddy's bank account). Now he's standing on the road in the rain, hoping to hitchhike to the east coast. 
2. She was married when they met, but she got divorced -- with his help. They had a long run, but broke up in the darkness of the night. She says they'll meet again. So far, this sounds vaguely autobiographical. And then...
3. He gets a job in Minnesota's North Woods, working as a cook. He then got a job on a fishing boat in Louisiana. He keeps thinking about his ex.
4. He meets a woman working in a strip club. He clearly means us to assume that he's talking about the former lover, but when she says to him, "don't I know your name," we're not so sure that she is the ex. Or that she's not. She ties his shoelaces, he feels uncomfortable.
5. She makes him a pipe back at her place, then shares with him some poems from an Italian poet in the 15th century, (13TH CENTURY?) whom I would take to be Dante Aligheri. He realizes that there's something between him and her, considering at the words she's chosen for him to read ring true and "glowed like burning coal, pouring off of every page like it was written in my soul from me to you."
6. Another shift: "he" is living with "them" in a basement apartment on Montague Street. I'm guessing the "them" of this verse is the "we" of the first three or the fourth and fifth verses. There's music and revolution, but once "he" starts dealing with slaves, he's no longer the man he used to be. She suffers because of his work (which I always thought meant dealing "in" slaves, as in a slave trader, but I wonder if "dealing with slaves" indicates something more personal, like, say, dealing with the music business). They break up, and "he" keeps moving on. I think that if there's anyone here who Dylan is playing, it's both "he" and the "he" of "they." I know it sounds confusing.
7. Now we're back to the first guy. He's going to look for her and to try to win her back. Everyone that they used to know has changed into someone else, usually not for the better, but this one remains a traveler. And then he ends with that famous, cryptic line: "We always did feel the same, we just saw it from a different point of view."

Simple Twist of Fate

Love affair hinges
On unexpected plot twists,
And it has to end.

A short story about a love affair, "Simple Twist of Fate" is widely seen as a tragic tale of Bob n' Sara, given its appearance on the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks." Much of that album was, they say, at least inspired by the breakup of their marriage.

Events:
1. They met in the park, and it was clear that they were going to get together. He has a twinge of doubt and wishes that such a simple twist of fate had not brought them together. Premonition of tragedy.
2. They checked in to a motel on a hot night.
3. She gives him the slip while he's sleeping. She gives a coin to a blind man on the way out the door, which I'm assuming is a reflection of what she just did for the singer, who apparently also is blind. A charity case, if you will.
4. He tries to be cool and say that it didn't matter, but it's clear that he has fallen in love.
5. He looks for her daily by the waterfront.
6. He thinks that they were cosmically destined for one another. That's what a simple twist of fate will do.

Shelter From the Storm

A helpful woman
Offers shelter to a man
In need of plenty.

"Shelter From the Storm," released on the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks," is considered one of Dylan's enduring classics. It is the second-to-last song on this album full of wistful misery and heartbreak, and is loaded with symbolism that I'm sure many people have tried to unlock and understand. The basic story is that a woman offers shelter to a man. The storm is almost certainly not a storm, but some other non-meteorlogical phenomenon, like a troubled life, various woes and on and on.

1. He enters the world, void of form, coming from the wilderness. He gets shelter.
2. He'll always do her a solid if he comes back again.
3. Their relationship was left unresolved, but he would love to get shelter again.
4. He was burned out, buried in hail, poisoned and "blown out on the trail." Like most of us at the age of 33. He also was hunted and ravaged. She offers shelter.
5. She's a beautiful vision. Even better, she removes crowns of thorns from self-styled martyrs.
6. Something went wrong in their relationship.
7. There's a deputy and there's a preacher. Deputy's on nails and the preacher is on horseback. Don't ask me why. Doom is all that counts. There's also a one-eyed undertaker with a horn.
8. Crying infants, lovelorn old men.
9. He was beset by philistines in a village. They gambled for his clothes. He bargained for salvation and got poison instead. He offered his innocence and was scorned.
10. Now he's living over the border, though he'll come back. "Beauty walks the razor's edge someday I'll make it mine." He wishes he could turn back time to when she gave him shelter from the storm. This is almost certainly a reference to the novel by W. Somerset Maugham, who wrote "The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard." Nobody knows that more than Bob. This phrase is from the Katha-Upanishad, which in part tells the story of the hard road to liberation of the soul. Maugham used it after visiting India and meeting Ramana Maharishi at this ashram in Tamil Nadu, according to the ever-resourceful Wikipedia. 

Please Mrs. Henry

He's looking for sex,

But he's too drunk and he's broke.

Mrs. Henry knows.

This is one of my favorite songs from the Basement Tapes sessions of 1967, and was one that apparently pleased Dylan and Robbie Robertson enough that they chose it for inclusion on the 1975 album that culled the best tracks from those sessions for one double-LP. There's been plenty of commentary on what's going on in this ribald singalong, but my suspicion is that the singer is looking for some paid company with a lady of the night named Mrs. Henry, but he doesn't have any money so he would like a freebie. Complicating matters is his clearly drunken state, one that the singer is all too aware of. It's undetermined whether he's even able to perform.

A confession to Mrs. Henry:

- I've had two beers, and a broom could sweep me up right about now.

- Will you take me to my room?

- I'm a good boy, but I've had too many eggs and kegs and socializing.

- I'm on my knees, but I don't even have a dime.

- I'm groaning in the hallway and I'm going mad.

- Maybe you should take me to your dad.

- I can: drink life a fish, crawl like a snake, bite like a turkey and slam like a drake.

- I'm a sweet bourbon daddy, but if you crowd me, I'll fill up your shoe (By peeing in it, one might surmise)

- "I'm a thousand years old, And I'm a generous bomb, I'm T-boned and punctured, But I'm known to be calm."

- I'm starting to drain, and my crane might leak (uh huh).

- Perhaps you might look my way and "pump me a few."

Open the Door, Richard

Bob's proverb service:
Remember your memories
And forgive the sick.

"Open the Door, Richard" also known as "Open the Door, Homer," is a variation on the old Vaudeville number, though Dylan's version, recorded in the Basement Tapes sessions of 1967, sounds more of a piece with the homespun homilies of old-timey America. What elevates this song above other material from those recordings in Saugerties that summer is its mysterious admonitions about living a moral life, combined with the apparently nonsensical "Open the door, Richard" chorus. There are a ton of versions of this song, and "Open the Door Richard," apparently became a catchphrase for some time, appearing on TV shows, films, cartoons and so on. I've included a few versions of the song below, along with the completely different lyrics for the Dylan song. His version appeared on the 1975 Basement Tapes album, and a few other takes appeared on the complete Basement Tapes sessions that were released in 2014 as volume 11 of the Bootleg Series. I find this to be one of the most fascinating and mysterious songs that I've ever heard.

Now, there’s a certain thing
That I learned from Jim
That he’d always make sure I’d understand
And that is that there’s a certain way
That a man must swim
If he expects to live off
Of the fat of the land
Open the door, Homer
I’ve heard it said before
Open the door, Homer
I’ve heard it said before
But I ain’t gonna hear it said no more

Now, there’s a certain thing
That I learned from my friend, Mouse
A fella who always blushes
And that is that ev’ryone
Must always flush out his house
If he don’t expect to be
Goin’ ’round housing flushes
Open the door, Homer
I’ve heard it said before
Open the door, Homer
I’ve heard it said before
But I ain’t gonna hear it said no more

“Take care of all your memories”
Said my friend, Mick
“For you cannot relive them
And remember when you’re out there
Tryin’ to heal the sick
That you must always
First forgive them”
Open the door, Homer
I’ve heard it said before
Open the door, Homer
I’ve heard it said before
But I ain’t gonna hear it said no more

The original song, which was a black Vaudeville number, is about a drunk guy who leaves the bar to go home. It's raining, and his roommate Richard won't let him in. This became the basis for a lot of ad libbing, including complaints about racism from the cops and all sorts of other issues, though the basic tone of the song is comic. There are a few versions here.

Odds and Ends

Baby I don't love you.
You don't love me. You just pour
Some juice on my head.

"Odds and Ends" is the first song on the 1975 album "The Basement Tapes," a sort of greatest hits collection of overdubbed songs from the 1967 Basement Tapes sessions by Bob Dylan and the Band. They were never meant to be released, but Robbie Robertson of the Band pulled some of the better, or at least more complete ones together, overdubbed them with other instruments, added some later songs by the Band, and released this double LP, in part to meet demand from fans who wanted to know what these bootlegs were of more than a hundred songs floating around from Dylan's time in Woodstock while he recovered from his motorcycle accident. Like many of the songs, it sounds like nonsense, but contains horse-sense homilies straight from the woods and fields and the Farmer's Almanac. I included the 1975 cut as well as the two takes from volume 11 of the Bootleg Series, which contains the complete and original (not overdubbed) songs from the 1967 sessions. I suspect that the 1975 version is the same as the #2 take below, and is an identical mix, but I don't know as I'm not an audiophile.

I plan it all and I take my place (It's "I stand in awe and I shake my face" on the album)
You break your promise all over the place
You promised to love me, but what do I see
Just you comin’ and spillin’ juice over me
Odds and ends, odds and ends
Lost time is not found again

Now, you take your file and you bend my head
I never can remember anything that you said
You promised to love me, but what do I know
You’re always spillin’ juice on me like you got someplace to go
Odds and ends, odds and ends
Lost time is not found again

Now, I’ve had enough, my box is clean
You know what I’m sayin’ and you know what I mean
From now on you’d best get on someone else
While you’re doin’ it, keep that juice to yourself
Odds and ends, odds and ends
Lost time is not found again

Nothing Was Delivered

Either deliver
Or refund everyone's cash,
And stop telling lies.

First, the lyrics. Then, my thoughts:

Nothing was delivered
And I tell this truth to you
Not out of spite or anger
But simply because it’s true
Now, I hope you won’t object to this
Giving back all of what you owe
The fewer words you have to waste on this
The sooner you can go

Nothing is better, nothing is best
Take heed of this and get plenty of rest

Nothing was delivered
But I can’t say I sympathize
With what your fate is going to be
Yes, for telling all those lies
Now you must provide some answers
For what you sell has not been received
And the sooner you come up with them
The sooner you can leave

Nothing is better, nothing is best
Take heed of this and get plenty rest

(Now you know)
Nothing was delivered
And it’s up to you to say
Just what you had in mind
When you made ev’rybody pay
No, nothing was delivered
Yes, ’n’ someone must explain
That as long as it takes to do this
Then that’s how long that you’ll remain

Nothing is better, nothing is best
Take heed of this and get plenty rest

I've read several discussions and essays about the story hidden in the song. Many people seem to think that it's a warning to a drug dealer to deliver the drugs for which the buyers paid. I think that when you get a bunch of people who are into country rock/hippy rock, they will interpret song lyrics according to their preoccupations, one of which is the drug deal. But the enduring quality of songs from the Basement Tapes is their woodsy, homespun, old-time homily nature. These songs, however nonsensical some of the lyrics be, are about proverbs, old saws, maxims, fireside truths and practical Farmer's Almanac advice, all touched with the shadow and weight of dead ancestors and vanished generations. Narrowing a song with such general admonishments as this to a frustrated attempt to buy pot does injustice to the song. What they ARE singing about? I think there's a basic morality tale here that says that you must right the scales to balance what you give with what you take, whether that's an item, a piece of advice, a lesson or anything. A good deed unreciprocated by a good deed of its own is an offense to universal equilibrium. But like many of the songs that Dylan and the Band recorded in 1967, I don't know for sure, though you can see that I stayed away from drug reference in the haiku while emphasizing the idea of payment for services, whether quotidian or profound.

The song, meanwhile, appears on the 1975 album "The Basement Tapes," and more than one version of it appears on the complete Basement Tapes recordings on volume 11 of the Bootleg Series.

Million Dollar Bash

It's nearly bash time.
They boys mash their potatoes
And head on over.

More down-home proto-hipster goodness from the Basement Tapes sessions. Million Dollar Bash is about some people getting ready to go to a party, and how much they're looking forward to it. Well, it's about more than that too, but I'm not sure that any of it makes any sense. It's a fun song, though. You can hear it all cleaned up on the 1975 "Basement Tapes" album and without them on volume 11 of the Bootleg Series -- and in two takes, no less!

Events on the day of the bash:

1. Big Dumb Blonde and Turtle plan to show up at the bash. She has a wheel in the gorge, while Turtle's checks are forged. He also has cheeks in a chunk and cheese in the cash.
2. Everybody here and there has the same law of physics that they must observe: the bigger they come, the harder they crack. Meanwhile, Bob invites sweet cream to flash as they plan to meet at the bash.
3. Bob takes his lawyer to the barn where Silly Nelly tells him a story. Jones shows up and takes out the trash, and then they go to the bash.
4. At night, he's "hitting it too hard" and his "stones won't take." He sleeps late, and then he and whoever he wakes up with do a hello-goodbye-push-then-crash routine. Then they go to the bash.
5. Bob looks at watch, looks at wrist, punches self in face with fist. Then he goes to get his potatoes mashed, then goes to the bash.

Meet Me in the Morning

I crawl through barbed wire
To love you, and you know what?
It doesn't feel good.

I've never heard a song that sounds like "Meet Me in the Morning." It's not the form, which is blues, and it's not the lyrics, which are harrowing though conventional. There's something eerie about the easygoing country sound of the guitars combined with the tale of the singer who is only too willing to go through many trials to be with his love -- and when he gets what he wants, he gets the sinking feeling that it's not all that good for him. The song moves into some strange, spooky territory with the music. I don't know what kind of drums they're using on the song or how it was recorded. They thump along in some muffled away along with creative high-hat use (high hat? hi hat?) and are accompanied at one point at the end of the song by a raucous guitar solo and some other guitar sounds that take the song into a whole new territory of strange beauty. The bass work is basic, but effective, and there's some other kind of guitar in there, I don't know what kind, that responds with different riffs and fillips to the repeated lines in each verse after Dylan sings them. Truly magical stuff. The song opens side 2 of the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks."

Samples:

They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn
But you wouldn’t know it by me
Every day’s been darkness since you been gone

Well, I struggled through barbed wire, felt the hail fall from above
Well, you know I even outran the hound dogs
Honey, you know I’ve earned your love

Look at the sun sinkin’ like a ship
Ain’t that just like my heart, babe
When you kissed my lips?

Lo and Behold!

Bob goes to Pittsburgh
Which he calls Chicken Town, and
Buys a herd of moose.

"Lo and Behold!" is one of those completely inexplicable songs to emerge from the 1967 Basement Tapes sessions. The music rumbles along like an old car or a train, calling as little attention to itself as possible. As it goes, Bob tells a story that defies description, while the Band joins in for the chorus. This is one of my favorite Dylan songs, but it needs 10 haiku to tell the story well. The first version of this song to appear on an album was in 1975 on "The Basement Tapes." A few more takes surfaced on the 2014 release of the complete Basement Tapes sessions, also known as volume 11 of the Bootleg Series.

I pulled out for San Anton’
I never felt so good
My woman said she’d meet me there
And of course, I knew she would
The coachman, he hit me for my hook
And he asked me my name
I give it to him right away
Then I hung my head in shame
Lo and behold! Lo and behold!
Lookin’ for my lo and behold
Get me outa here, my dear man!

I come into Pittsburgh
At six-thirty flat
I found myself a vacant seat
An’ I put down my hat
“What’s the matter, Molly, dear
What’s the matter with your mound?”
“What’s it to ya, Moby Dick?
This is chicken town!”
Lo and behold! Lo and behold!
Lookin’ for my lo and behold
Get me outa here, my dear man!

I bought my girl
A herd of moose
One she could call her own
Well, she came out the very next day
To see where they had flown
I’m goin’ down to Tennessee
Get me a truck ‘r somethin’
Gonna save my money and rip it up!
Lo and behold! Lo and behold!
Lookin’ for my lo and behold
Get me outa here, my dear man!

Now, I come in on a Ferris wheel
An’ boys, I sure was slick
I come in like a ton of bricks
Laid a few tricks on ’em
Goin’ back to Pittsburgh
Count up to thirty
Round that horn and ride that herd
Gonna thread up!
Lo and behold! Lo and behold!
Lookin’ for my lo and behold
Get me outa here, my dear man!

Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts

Jack robs bank. Lily
Cuckolds Rosemary with Jim.
Rose kills him, then hangs.

This epic robbery, lust and revenge story from the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks" feels to me like it could have contained a few more verses to explain what on earth is going on. But continuity isn't the point, it's atmosphere that Bob is going for here. In short:

- The Jack of Hearts and his boys are robbing the bank safe located two doors down from the gambling hall/saloon in an old western town. They're not even bothering to hide the noise they're making. Presumably everybody has something else on their minds. Most people are getting ready for the show that's going to happen in the saloon that night.
- And how people do have other things going on... Lily's hanging out with the girls backstage, playing cards. She came from a broken home and had plenty of affairs with plenty of men, but nobody like the Jack of Hearts.
- Then there's Big Jim. He owns the diamond mine and is a richie-rich about town. He's having an affair with Lily. He's also concerned about this Jack of Hearts fellow, but he's not sure why.
- The stage manager knows that something strange is happening, but he can't rouse the hanging judge, becuase the hanging judge is drunk. He runs into the lead actor, dressed as a monk.
- Big Jim's wife Rosemary wants out of her marriage. She's depressed and has contemplated suicide and done other bad things. She's looking to do one good deed before dying. She's also a drunk.
- The hanging judge: another drunk, but he's not drunk after the burglary ends and Jack flees town. Ultimately, he solves everybody's problems. Jack busts out at gunpoint, Rosemary drops Jim with her knife, the judge sobers up in time to send Rosemary to the gallows, and Lily is left alone with her thoughts.

If You See Her, Say Hello

He pretends he's fine,
But it's not true. He's in love
Despite their breakup.

"If You See Her, Say Hello" is a beautiful song, but boy is it dreary. Maybe the less judgmental way to say it is: the music fits the mood. One of the songs on side two of "Blood on the Tracks" from 1975, it captures the essence of why they say breaking up is hard to do. Though Burt and Hal earlier suggested that you "Make It Easy on Yourself," Dylan chooses the opposite path to working through his pain. 

What she did and what she's doing:
- Might be in Tangier
- Left me early last Spring
- Might think I've forgotten her (wrong)
- Lives inside of me

What happened:
- A falling out
- She busted out and got free

What I'm up to:
- Dealing with the bitter taste
- Going here and there, seeing people, hearing people mention her name
- Not getting used to things
- Being too sensitive, getting soft
- Replaying the past

What you should do:
- Say hello
- Tell her things get slow, but I'm OK
- Tell her I'm thinking of her
- Kiss her for me
- Tell her that I want what's best for her
- Tell her that I'd love to see her if she's in town

I don't visit this song much. It's too sad.