Talking New Bob Dylan

Hey, Bob Dylan, I wrote you a song

Today's your birthday, if I'm not wrong

If I'm not mistaken, you're fifty today

How are you doing, Bob? What do you say?

Well, it must've been about '62

I heard you on record, and you were brand new

And some had some doubts about the way you sang

But the truth came through, and loudly it rang

Yeah, you were hipper than Mitch Miller

And Johnny Mathis, put together

So I got some boots, a harmonica rack

A D21, and I was on the right track

But I didn't start writing until '68

It was too damn daunting, you were too great

I won a whole lot of Bob Dylan imitation contests, though

Yeah, times were a-changin'

You brought it all home

Blonde On Blonde, Like a Rolling Stone

The the real world is crazy, you were deranged

And when you went electric, Bob, everything changed

A shock to the system

Had a commission at your motorcycle wreck

Holed up in Woodstock with a broken neck

And the labels were signing up guys with guitars

Out to make millions, looking for stars

Well, I figured it was time to make my move

Songs from the Weschester County Delta country

Yeah, I got a deal, and so did John Prine

Steve Forbert, and Springsteen, all in a line

They were looking for you, signing up others

We were new Bob Dylans, your dumb-ass kid brothers

Yeah, we still get together every week at Bruce's house

Why, he's got quite a spread, I'll tell you

It's a twelve-step program

Yeah, but we were just us, and of course, you were you, and

John Wesley Harding sure sounded new

And then Nashville Skyline was even newer, and

Blood On the Tracks, and the ringing got truer, and

Let's see, there was another one in there somewhere

Oh, I got it, I got it, Self Portrait

Well, it was an interesting effort

Yeah, I had to stop listening, times were too tough

Me being the new me was hard enough

You keep right on changing like you always do

And what's best is the old stuff still all sounds new

Yeah, today is your birthday

Have a great one, Bob

Being the new you is one hell of a job

My kid cranked up her boom box to Almost Grown

When I heard you screaming

From her room

"Everybody must get stoned"

Thanks a lot, Bob

Happy birthday, Bob