Walls of Redwing

Life in reform school
Isn't so pleasant if the
School is Red Wing.

The Red Wing, Minnesota juvie hall that Dylan describes here sounds like it would have been a paradise playground for Jean Genet, all full of boys aged 12-17, every one of them treated miserably, like bandits and criminals. But apparently this is fiction. Still, Dylan writes a portrait of a teenage lockdown as if it were designed by the team that brought you ADX Florence.

- Dirty mess hall, march to brick wall. Weary/tired. No sing no talk.
- Iron gates, barbed-wire fence, electric fence.
- Keep your head down.
- Guards with clubs looking for a reason to beat you up. 
- Lonely nights, etc. Rain.
- "Oh, some of us’ll end up in St. Cloud Prison. And some of us’ll wind up to be lawyers and things. And some of us’ll stand up yo meet you on your crossroads, from inside the walls, the walls of Red Wing."

Wallflower

"May I ride you home?"
Wallflower asks wallflower
For a late-night dance.

"Wallflower" didn't make an appearance on a Bob Dylan album until 1991 when it was included in the rare/unreleased recordings in the first volume of the Bootleg Series. The song had been around for a while though, mainly because of its appearance on the 1973 album "Doug Sahm and Band" on which Dylan performed as a sideman. The song, which Dylan copyrighted in 1971, is a standard country and western love song.

1. Wallflower, let's dance. I'm sad and lonely like you. As a matter fact, I'm falling in love with you.
2. What are we both doing here? Let's dance.
3. I took one look at you and, regardless of the smoke in this joint, I knew that you would be the one for me.
4. The ending that most of us hope for in such circumstances: "Wallflower, wallflower, take a chance on me. Please let me ride you home."

No More Auction Block

No more auctioning,
No more whips or slavery.
We've had too many.

This is a spiritual sung by slaves in the 19th century who escaped to Canada and won their freedom. Bob Dylan's version, which was released on the Bootleg Series's first volume, was recorded in concert in 1962. The words are clear enough. The tune is more or less the same as what Dylan used for "Blowin' in the Wind."

No more auction block for me
No more, no more
No more auction block for me
Many thousands gone

No more driver's lash for me
No more, no more
No more driver's lash for me
Many thousands gone

No more whip lash for me
No more, no more
No more pint of salt for me
Many thousands gone

No more auction block for me
No more, no more
No more auction block for me
Many thousands gone

Nobody 'Cept You

Nothing pleases him
Except you. You remind him
Of pretty church hymns.

Here's a sweet little outtake from the "Planet Waves" sessions with the Band. Left off that 1974 album, it appeared on the first volume of the Bootleg Series in 1991.

Things for which she's an exception:
- Believes in nothing
- Nothing is sacred
- Tries for nobody
- Nothing worth living or dying for
- Nobody sees him
- Nothing pleases him
- Nothing hypnotizes him
- Nothing holds him in a spell
- Everything runs by him like water
- Everybody wants his attention
- Everybody wants to sell him something

Things she does:
- Reaches him
- Is admired by him
- Sets his soul on fire
- Matters

Things she's like:
- A church hymn he used to hear

And then there's this sweet, weird lyric from the grave:

Used to play in the cemetery
Dance and sing and run when I was a child
Never seemed strange
But now I just pass mournfully by
That place where the bones of life are piled
I know somethin’ has changed

Man on the Street

Man dies in the street.
A cop kicks his corpse one time.
Tough city, New York.

I understand from Eyolf Ostrem on the Dylanchords.info website that the music to this song came from a song called "Young man who wouldn't hoe corn." The lyrics come straight from the heart of New York City. The song appeared in 1991, 30 years after its recording, on the first edition of the Bootleg Series.

Well I'll sing you a song, ain't very long,
'Bout an old man who never done wrong.
How he died nobody can say,
They found him dead in the street one day.
Well, the crowd, they gathered one fine morn,
At the man whose clothes 'n' shoes were torn.
There on the sidewalk he did lay,
They stopped 'n' stared and they went their way.
Well, the p'liceman come and he looked around,
"Get up, old man, or I'm a-takin' you down."
He jabbed him once with his bully club,
the old man then rolled off the curb.
Well, he jabbed him again and loudly said:
"Call the wagon; this man is dead."
The wagon come, they loaded him in,
I never saw the man again.
I've sung you my song, it ain't very long,
'Bout an old man who never done wrong.
How he died no body could say,
They found him dead in the street one day.

Mama, You Been on My Mind

Is it the weather?
Or is it that I miss you?
Whatever it is...

Some haiku gain more from leaving out the central concept when it's so clear in the title that you don't even need to express it again. Such is the case of "Mama, You Been on My Mind." Bob Dylan recorded this song in 1964 for the album "Another Side of Bob Dylan," though it didn't make the final cut. Instead, it appeared on the first volume of the bootleg series in 1964. Plenty of other people covered it in the meantime, including Judy Collins, Ricky Nelson, Johnny Cash, Dion and the Belmonts, Linda Ronstadt and Rod Steward. It's generally understood that he wrote it for his ex-girlfriend Suze Rotolo.

What might it be that has you on his mind?
- Maybe the color of the sun
- Maybe the weather

Where I'm coming from:
- I don't mean trouble
- I'm not asking for you back
- I'm not saying I can't forget
- I'm not contorting myself in sadness

Conditions on you:
- None
- I don't mind where you've been
- I don't mind if you make me sad
- I don't mind not knowing where you slept last night
- Not asking you to say yes or no.

Well, maybe one condition:
- Look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow morning. I wonder if you can see yourself as clearly as I see you.

\

Let Me Die in My Footsteps

Bob says, if there's war,
Let him die outside, not in
A fallout shelter.

Better to die standing up than on your knees, more or less. "Let Me Die in My Footsteps" is Bob Dylan's reaction to fallout shelters and the threat of nuclear war. Dylan suggests that it's better to enjoy the world and its natural wonders and if you must die, you die amid them rather than cooped in a living grave. 

To quote:
I will not go down under the ground
’Cause somebody tells me that death’s comin’ ’round
An’ I will not carry myself down to die
When I go to my grave my head will be high
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground

There’s been rumors of war and wars that have been
The meaning of life has been lost in the wind
And some people thinkin’ that the end is close by
’Stead of learnin’ to live they are learnin’ to die
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground

And: 
Let me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood
Let the smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood
Let me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves
Let me walk down the highway with my brother in peace
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground

Go out in your country where the land meets the sun
See the craters and the canyons where the waterfalls run
Nevada, New Mexico, Arizona, Idaho
Let every state in this union seep down deep in your souls
And you’ll die in your footsteps
Before you go down under the ground

The song was intended for the 1963 album "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan," but replaced by "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall." It appeared on the album "The Broadside Ballads, Vol. 1," and after that on the first edition of the Bootleg Series in 1991.

Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

Want to fix your blues?
Woody Guthrie has the tool
Inside his songbox.

Bob Dylan recited "Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie" at the end of a concert on April 12, 1963 at Town Hall in New York City. It's easier to post this tour de force here instead of trying to boil it down. It's a long complaint filed as a preamble followed by a cadenza with the remedy to the complaint. The recording is available on the first edition of the Bootleg Series, released in 1991.

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills

"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache¥
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

And though it's only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You'll find them both
In the Grand Canyon
At sundown

I'll Keep It With Mine

You have many fans
Eager to earn your favors.
Ignore them, choose me.

"I'll Keep It With Mine" saw its first release on a Judy Collins single in 1965. I first heard it on Nico's debut solo album in 1967. She recorded the song after her now legendary appearance on the first Velvet Underground record, and songs like this were intended to cast her as a Germanic folk chanteuse. It worked, sort of, though nobody could keep Nico on the rails, and by the time she recorded her next album, "The Marble Index," she was charting a course for waters that were too dark for most other musicians to follow. 

Dylan wrote the song in 1964 as a demo for the Witmark company. You can find that version on the ninth volume of the Bootleg Series. He also tried recording it for the 1965 album "Bringing It Back Home." That version is available on the "Biograph" box set from 1985. A version for the "Blonde on Blonde" album in 1966 appeared on volume 1 of the Bootleg series in 1991. There are other versions too, but apparently don't circulate even among obsessives. I could be wrong about this, as I have found one instrumental version from 1966, pasted below.

As for the song, which is Bob lecturing a woman on what's good for her:
- She searches for what's not lost.
- He notes people will help her and be kind, but he might be able to save her some time by being her main man.
- He might seem odd to you because he loves you for what you're not.
- Again, people MIGHT try to help you, but he's a better bet for the job.
- Separately, there's a train leaving at 10:30, but it will be back tomorrow. The conductor's sick of the reputation.

House Carpenter

Woman leaves family,
Misses kids. Demon lover
Takes her straight to hell.

"House Carpenter" isn't so different from a million other spooky songs from the British Isles, but I've always thought this one was pretty frightening. The original title of this Scottish ballad is "The Daemon Lover," and is also known as "James Harris" or "James Herries."

Naturally, it is a cautionary tale for married women who might be considering their options. As the original title page went from the 17th century: A Warning for Married Women, being an example of Mrs Jane Reynolds (a West-country woman), born near Plymouth, who, having plighted her troth to a Seaman, was afterwards married to a Carpenter, and at last carried away by a Spirit, the manner how shall be presently recited.

The story: A man returns to his former lover. She's married to a carpenter and has one or more babies. He convinces her to run off with him to Italy. They board a ship and sail out to sea. She misses her children and regrets her action. Then she spies two coasts. One is bright and beautiful. The other is dark and frightening. She asks which coasts they are and her lover tells her. He lets her know that they're bound for the worse of the two options. At that point, she discovers that he is a demon or the devil or some other malevolent supernatural force. He destroys the ship and she dies, sunk at the bottom of the sea.

Here are the lyrics that Dylan used. His recording from 1961 appears on the first volume of the Bootleg Series, which was released in 1991. He recorded another version nearly a decade later during his sessions for the Self Portrait album. That one appears on Volume 10 of the Bootleg Series, called "Another Self Portrait."

Well met, well met, my own true love
Well met, well met, cried she
I've just returned from the salt, salt sea
And it's all for the love of thee

I could have married a King's daughter there
She would have married me
But I have forsaken my King's daughter there
It's all for the love of thee

Well, if you could have married a King's daughter there
I'm sure you're the one to blame
For I am married to a house carpenter
And I'm sure he's a fine young man

Forsake, forsake your house carpenter
And come away with me
I'll take you where the green grass grows
On the shores of sunny Italy

So up she picked her babies three
And gave them kisses, one, two, three
Saying "take good care of your daddy while I'm gone
And keep him good company."

Well, they were sailin' about two weeks
I'm sure it was not three
When the younger of the girls, she came on deck
Sayin' she wants company

"Well, are you weepin' for your house and home?
Or are you weepin' for your babies three?"
"Well, I'm not weepin' for my house carpenter
I'm weepin' for my babies three."

Oh what are those hills yonder, my love
They look as white as snow
Those are the hill of heaven, my love
You and I'll never know

Oh what are those hills yonder, my love
They look as dark as night
Those are the hills of hell-fire my love
Where you and I will unite

Oh twice around went the gallant ship
I'm sure it was not three
When the ship all of a sudden, it sprung a leak
And it drifted to the bottom of the sea

Golden Loom

Bob recalls his tryst
With a fisherman's daughter
Whom he failed to hook.

"Golden Loom" is of a piece with "Mozambique," that supreme piece of laid-back vacationland music from the 1976 album "Desire." This song didn't make it to that album, surfacing instead in 1991 on the first volume of the Bootleg Series. The haiku tells the story.

Fisherman's daughter shows up at just the right time, carrying a loom. It's a smoky, starry night in autumn. Boats in the bay, eucalyptus in the air. They wash their feet at the shrine, drink wine, she starts crying. She takes off in the summer (the loom goes with her). Later, he walks across the bridge "in the dismal light." Stripped cars, and such. He sees trembling lion with a tail made of a lotus flower. When he thinks he's kissing her, she's not really there.

Call Letter Blues

She left him, all right,
Even the kids know she's gone.
But this dude abides.

Been Caught Stealing

Kleptomania
Is something to be proud of.
Kids, you should steal things.