Songtext zu 'Tombstone Blues' von Bob Dylan

The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous

The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce

Mama's in the factory
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues

The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans: I've just been made
Then sends out for the doctor
Who pulls down the shade
And says: My advice is to not let the boys in

Now medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to the bride
Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison

Mama's in the factory
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues

Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying: Tell me great hero
But please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?

The Commander-in-Chief answers him
While chasing a fly, saying
Death to all those who would whimper and cry
And dropping a barbell he points to the sky
Saying: The Sun's not yellow it's chicken

Mama's in the factory
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues

The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save
Put jawbones on their tombstones
And flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle

Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch
He burns out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle

Mama's in the factory
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in trouble
With the tombstone blues

The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who sits worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter

Now I wish I could give Brother Bill
His great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after

Mama's in the factory
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues

Where Ma Raney and Beethoven
Once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells
Road maps for the soul
To the old folks home and the college

Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you
And cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge

Mama's in the factory
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues