Testi:
Bob Dylan John Wesley Harding

As I went out one morning To breathe the air around Tom Paine's, I spied the fairest damsel That ever did walk in chains. I offer'd her my hand, She

"Oh, help me in my weakness," I heard the drifter say, As they carried him from the courtroom And were taking him away. "My trip hasn't been a pleasant

I pity the poor immigrant Who wishes he would've stayed home, Who uses all his power to do evil But in the end is always left so alone. That man whom

John Wesley Harding Was a friend to the poor, He trav'led with a gun in ev'ry hand. All along this countryside, He opened a many a door, But he was never

There was a wicked messenger From Eli he did come, With a mind that multiplied The smallest matter. When questioned who had sent for him, He answered

Close your eyes, close the door, You don't have to worry any more. I'll be your baby tonight. Shut the light, shut the shade, You don't have to be afraid

There must be some way out of here Said the joker to the thief There's too much confusion I can't get no relief Businessmen, they drink my wine Plowmen

these words that I speak I know you've suffered much But in this you are not so unique All of us at times we might work too hard To have it too fast

Down along the cove I spied my true love comin' my way Down along the cove I spied my true love comin' my way I say, "Lord, have mercy, mama It sure