House Carpenter

Transcript of the performance by Bob Dylan on his album "The Bootleg Series - Volumes 1-3", recorded 22 November 1961 at Columbia Studio A, New York, New York, U.S.A. (CO 68751-1)
Lyric and music traditional


Heard a story about a ghost come back from out in the sea, come to take his bride away from the house carpenter.

"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 a-sure he's a fine young man."

"Forsake, forsake your house carpenter
and come away with me.
I'll take you to where the green grass grows,
on the shores of sunny Italy."

So up she picked her baby's three
and give 'em kisses one two three,
saying, "Take good care of your daddy when I'm gone
and keep him good company."

"Well, they were sailing about two weeks,
I'm a-sure it was not three,
when the younger of the girls, she came on deck,
sayin', "What's company?"

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

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

"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.

---

Subterranean Homesick Blues

Transcript of the performance by Bob Dylan on his album "The Bootleg Series - Volumes 1-3", recorded 13 January 1965 at Columbia Studio A, New York, New York, U.S.A. (CO 85275)
Lyric and music written by Bob Dylan


Johnny's in the basement
mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
looking about the government
the man in the trench coat
badge out laid off
says he's got a bad bill
wants to get it paid off
look out kid
it's somethin' you did
God knows when
but you're doin' it again
you better duck down the alley way
lookin' for a new friend
man in the coon-skin cap
in the pig pen
wants eleven dollar bills
and you only got ten

Maggie comes fleet foot
face full of black soot
talkin' that the heat put
plants in the bed but
the phone's tapped anyway
Maggie says that many say
they must bust in early May
orders from the D.A.
look out kid
it don't matter what you did
but walk on your tip toes
don't tie no bows
better stay away from those
that carry around a fire hose
keep a clean nose
be careful of the plain clothes
you don't need a weather man
to know which way the wind blows

well get sick get well
hang around a ink well
ring bar hard to tell
if anything is gonna sell
try hard get barred
get back write braille
get jailed jump bail
join the army if you fail
look out kid
you're gonna get hit
by users cheaters
six-time losers
hangin' round the theaters
the girl by the whirlpool
is lookin' for a new fool
don't follow leaders
and watch the parkin' meters

get born keep warm
short pants romance learn to dance
get dressed get blessed
try to be a success
please her please him buy gifts
don't steal don't lift
twenty years of schoolin'
and they put you on the day shift
look out kid
they keep it all hid
better jump down a manhole
light yourself a candle
don't wear sandals
try to avoid the scandals
if you don't wanna be a bum
you better not chew gum
and the pump don't work
'cause the vandals took the handles

---

Mr. Bojangles

Transcript of the performance by Bob Dylan on his album "Dylan" (CD "Bob Dylan (A Fool Such As I)"), recorded 2 June 1970 at Columbio Studio E, New York, New York, U.S.A. (CO 106782)
Lyric and music written by Jerry Jeff Walker


I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you
in worn out shoes.
Silver hair, ragged shirt and baggy pants,
that old soft shoe.
He jumped so high, he jumped so high,
then he'd lightly touch down.

Mr. Bojangles,
Mr. Bojangles,
dance!

I met him in a cell in New Orleans,
I was down and out.
He looked to me to be the eyes of age
as he spoke right out.
He talked of life, he talked of life,
laughed and slapped his leg a step.

Mr. Bojangles,
Mr. Bojangles,
dance!

He said the name, Bojangles, and he danced a lick
all across the cell.
He grabbed his pants for a better stance,
oh, he jumped so high and clicked up his heels.
He let go a laugh, he let go a laugh,
shook back his clothes all around.

Mr. Bojangles,
Mr. Bojangles,
dance!
Yeah, dance!

He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs
throughout the South.
He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and him
had just traveled all about.
His dog up and died, he up and died,
and after 20 years he still grieves.

Mr. Bojangles,
Mr. Bojangles,
dance!

He said, "I dance now at ev'ry chance in honky tonks
for drinks and tips.
But most of the time I spend behind these county bars
'cause I drinks a bit."
He shook his head and... and he shook his head.
I heard someone ask him, "Please

Mr. Bojangles,
Mr. Bojangles,
dance!
Dance!
Mr. Bojangles, dance!"