recorded Feb. 27 1970
Got the Bob Dylan Blues
and the Bob Dylan shoes
and my clothes and my hair's in a mess
but you know, I just couldn't care less.
Gonna write me a song
about what's right and what's wrong
about God and my girl and all that.
Quiet while I make like a cat.
Cos I'm a poet
Doncha know it
And the wind, you can blow it
Cos I'm Mr. Dylan, the King
And I'm free as a bird on the wing.
Roam from town to town
guess I get people down
but I don't care too much about that.
Cos my gut and my wallet are fat.
Make a whole lotta dough
but I deserve it, though
I got soul and a good heart of gold
so I'll sing about war in the cold.
Cos I'm a poet
Doncha know it
And the wind, you can blow it
Cos I'm Mr. Dylan, the King
And I'm free as a bird on the wing.
So I sing about dreams
and I rhyme it with seems
'cause it seems that my dream always means
that I can prophesy all kinds of things.
Well, the guy that digs me
should try hard to see
that he buys all my discs in a hat.
And when I'm in town go see that.
Cos I'm a poet
Doncha know it
And the wind, you can blow it
Cos I'm Mr. Dylan, the King
And I'm free as a bird on the wing.