The Bootleg Series Versions
Talking Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues
Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues
Sitting On A Barbed-Wire Fence
It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
Someone's Got A Hold Of My Heart
Come you ladies and
you gentlemen, a-listen to my song.
Sing it to you
right, but you might think it's wrong.
Just a little
glimpse of a story I'll tell
Bout an East Coast
city that you all know well
It's hard times
from the country
Livin' down in New
York town.
Old New York City
is a friendly old town,
From Washington
Heights to Harlem on down.
There's a mighty
many people and they're all millin' around,
They'll kick you
when you're up and knock you when you're down.
It's hard times
from the country
Livin' down in New
York town.
Well, the weak and
the strong, and the rich and the poor
Gather together,
ain't room for no more,
Crowded up above,
crowded down below,
When someone
disappears, you never even know.
It's hard times
from the country
Livin' down in New
York town.
It's a mighty long ways
from the Golden Gate
To Rockefeller
Plaza 'n' the Empire State.
Mister Empire sets
up as high as a bird,
Old Mister
Rockefeller never says a word
It's hard times
from the country,
Livin' down in New
York town.
Well, it's up in
the mornin' tryin' to find a job of work.
Stand in one place
till your feet begin to hurt.
If you got a lot o'
money you can make yourself merry,
If you only got a
nickel, it's the Staten Island Ferry.
And it's hard times
from the country
Livin' down in New
York town.
Mister Hudson come
a-sailin' down the stream
And old Mister
Minuet paid for his dream.
Bought your city on
a one-way track,
If I had my way I'd
sell it right back.
And it's hard times
from the country
Livin' down in New
York town.
I'll take all the
smog in Cal-i-for-ne-ay,
An' every bit of
dust in the Oklahoma plains,
An' the dirt in the
caves of the Rocky Mountain mines.
It's all much
cleaner than the New York kind.
And it's hard times
in the country
Livin' down in New
York town.
So all you newsy people,
spread the news around,
You c'n listen to
m' story, listen to m' song.
You c'n step on my
name, you c'n try 'n' get me beat,
When I leave New
York, I'll be standin' on my feet.
And it's hard times
from the country
Livin' down in New
York town.
[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]
[TOP]
Well, I saw it
advertised one day,
That the Bear
Mountain picnic was comin' my way.
"Come along
'n' take a trip,
We'll bring you up there
on a ship.
Bring the wife and
family.
Bring the whole ...
kids."
Yippee!
Well, I run right
down 'n' bought a ticket
To this thing
called the Bear Mountain Picnic.
Little did I
realize
I was in for a
pleasant funny surprise.
Had nothin' to do
with picnics.
Didn't come close
to a mountain.
I hate bears.
Took the wife 'n'
kids down to the pier,
There were six
thousand people there,
Everybody had a
ticket for the trip.
"Oh
well", I said, "it's a pretty big ship.
Besides, anyhow,
the more the merrier."
Well, we all got on
'n' what d'ya think,
That big old boat
started t' sink.
More people kept
a-pilin' on,
That old ship was
a-goin' down.
Funny way t' start
a picnic.
Well, I soon lost
track of m' kids 'n' wife,
So many people I
never saw in m' life.
That old ship was
sinkin' down in the water,
There were six
thousand people tryin' t' kill each other,
Dogs a-barkin',
cats a-screamin',
Women a-yellin',
men a-flyin', fists a-flyin', babies flyin',
Cops a-comin', me
a-runnin'.
Maybe we just
better call off the picnic.
I got shoved down,
got pushed around
All I remember was
a moanin' sound.
Don't remember one
thing more,
All I remember was
wakin' up on the shore,
My arms and legs
were broken,
My feet were
splintered, my head was cracked,
I couldn't walk,
couldn't talk, smell, feel,
Couldn't see, I
didn't know where I was,
I was bald
Quite lucky to be
alive though.
Well, feelin' like
I just climbed outa m' casket,
I grabbed back hold
of m' picnic basket.
Took the wife 'n'
kids 'n' started home,
Wishin' I'd never
got up that mornin'.
Now, I don't care
just what you do,
If you wanta have a
picnic, that's up t' you.
But don't tell me
about it, I don't wanta hear it,
Cause, see, I just
lost all my picnic spirit.
Stay in m' kitchen,
have a picnic in m' bathroom.
Now, it don't seem
to me quite so funny
What some people
are gonna do f'r money.
There's a bran' new
gimmick every day
Just t' take
somebody's money away.
I think we oughta
take some o' these people
And put 'em on a
boat, send 'em up to Bear Mountain ...
For a picnic.
[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]
[TOP]
The trail is dark
and dusty
And the road is
kind of rough,
But the good road
is a-waitin'
And boys it aint
far off.
Trails of troubles,
roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
we shall walk.
I walked down to
the valley
I turned my head up
high.
I seen that silver
linin'
That was hangin' in
the sky.
Trails of troubles,
roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
we shall walk.
The evenin' dusk
was rollin'
I was walking down
the track.
There was a one-way
wind a-blowin'
And it was blowin'
at my back.
Trails of troubles,
roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
we shall walk.
The gravel road is
bumpy,
It's a hard old
road to ride,
But the clearer
road's off yonder,
With the cinders on
the side.
Trails of troubles,
roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
we shall walk.
The mornin' train
was movin',
The hummin' of it's
wheels,
Told me of a new
day
Comin' across the
fields.
Trails of troubles,
roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
we shall walk.
[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]
[TOP]
Well, I was feelin'
sad and kind of blue,
I didn't know what
I wus gonna do.
The Communists wus
a-comin' around,
They wus in the
air,
They wus on the
ground.
They wus all over
...
So I run down most
hurriedly
And joined the John
Birch Society.
Got me a secret
membership card
And went back home
to the yard
Started lookin' on
the side-walk
Under the hedges
...
Well, I got up in
the mornin' 'n' looked under my bed,
I wus lookin'
everyplace for them gol-damned Reds.
Looked behind the
sink and under the floor
Looked in the glove
compartment of my car.
Couldn't find any
...
Looked behind the
clothes, behind the chair
Lookin' for them
Reds everywhere,
Looked way up my
chimney hole,
Even looked deep
down inside my toilet bowl.
They got away ...
I heard some
footsteps by the front porch door
So I grabbed my
shot gun from the floor
Snuck around the
house with a huff and a hiss
Sayin' "Hands
up, you Communist!"
It was the mailman.
He punched me out
...
Well, I wus sittin'
home alone an' I started to sweat,
I figured they wus
in my TV set.
I peeked behind the
picture frame,
Got a shock from my
feet, that hit my brain.
Them Reds did it!
Hootenanny
television!
Well, I quit my job
so I could work alone,
Got a magnifying
glass like Sherlock Holmes.
Followed some clues
from my detective bag
And discovered red stripes
on the American Flag!
Betsy Ross ...
Now, Eisenhower
he's a Russian spy,
Lincoln and
Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy.
To my knowledge
there's just one man
That's really an'
truly an American: that's George Lincoln Rockwell.
I know for a fact
he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus.
Well, I fin'ly
started thinkin' straight
When I run outa
things to investigate.
I couldn't imagine
nothin' else,
So now I'm home
investigatin' myself!
Hope I don't find
out too much ... Good God!
[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]
[TOP]
Farewell Angelina
The bells of the
crown
Are being stolen by
bandits
I must follow the
sound
The triangle
tingles
The music plays
slow
But farewell
Angelina
The night is on
fire
And I must go.
There is no use in
talking
And there's no need
for blame
There is nothing to
prove
Ev'rything still is
the same
A table stands
empty
By the edge of the
stream
But farewell
Angelina
The sky's changin'
colors
And I must leave.
The jacks and the
queens
They've forsaked
the courtyard
Fifty-two gypsies
Now file past the
guard
In the space where
the deuce
And the ace once
ran wild
Farewell Angelina
The sky is folding
I'll see you after
a while.
See the cross-eyed
pirates
Sit perched in the
sun
Shooting tin cans
With a sawed-off
shotgun
And the cockerels
and the neighbors
Clap and cheer with
each blast
But farewell
Angelina
The sky it is
trembling
And I must leave
fast.
King Kong, little
elves
In the rooftops
they dance
Valentino-type
tangos
While the heroes
clean hands
Shut the eyes of
the dead
Not to embarrass
anyone
Farewell Angelina
The sky is flooding
over
And I must be gone.
The camouflaged
parrot
He flutters from
fear
When something he
doesn't know about
Suddenly appears
What cannot be
imitated perfect
Must die
Farewell Angelina
The sky's flooding
over
And I must go where
it is dry.
Machine guns are
roaring
Puppets heave rocks
At misunderstood
visions
And at the faces of
clocks
Call me any name
you like
I will never deny
it
But farewell
Angelina
The sky is erupting
And I must go where
it is quiet.
[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]
[TOP]
I paid fifteen
million dollars, twelve hundred and seventy-two cents
I paid one thousand
two hundred twenty-seven dollars and fifty-five cents
See my bull dog
bite a rabbit
And my hound dog's
sittin' on a barbed-wire fence
All right!
Well, my
temperature rises and my feet can't walk so hot
Yes, my temperature
rises and my feet can't walk so hot
Well, this Arabian
doctor comes in, gives me a shot
But wouldn't tell
what it was that I got
Well, this woman
I've got, she's killing me alive
Yes, this woman
I've got, she's killing me alive
She is making me
into an old man,
And, man, I'm not
even twenty-five
Of course, you're
gonna think this song is a riff
I know you're gonna
think this song is a riff
Unless you've been
inside a tunnel
And fell down 69,
70 feet over a barbed-wire fence
All right!
[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]
[TOP]
Well, I ride on a
mailtrain, baby,
Can't buy no
thrill.
Yes, I've been up
all night, baby,
Leanin' on the
windowsill.
Well, if I die
On top of the hill
And if I don't make
it,
You know my baby
will.
Don't the moon look
good, mama,
Shinin' down
through the trees?
Don't the ghost
child look good, baby
Sitting on his
madman's knee?
Don't the sun look
good
Goin' down over the
sea?
Don't my gal look
fine
When she's comin'
after me?
All right!
Well, I've just
been to the baggage car
Where the
engineer's been tossed
I sent out for the
compasses
Sure don't know
what they cost.
Well, I wanna be
your lover, baby,
I don't wanna be
your boss.
I can't help it
none
If this train gets
lost.
[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]
[TOP]
Santa Fé
Dear dear dear dear
dear Santa Fé
My woman needs
every day
She promised to let
me stay
She's rolling up a
knot to pray to Gods away
She's in Santa Fé
Dear dear dear dear
dear Santa Fé
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 Santa Fé
Santa Fé,
Dear dear dear dear
Santa Fé
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
Santa Fé,
Dear dear dear dear
dear dear Santa Fé