Tombstone Blues Songtext
von Tim O’Brien
Tombstone Blues Songtext
The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they′re trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous.
The ghost of Belle Star she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce.
Mama′s in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy′s in the alley
He′s lookin' for food.
And I′m in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in".
Now the medicine man comes and shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to be bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it′s not poison".
Mama's in the fact′ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He′s lookin′ for food.
And I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo′s math book to get thrown
At Delilah who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks they′re from laughter.
I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after.
Mama's in the fact′ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He′s lookin′ for food.
And I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks home and the college.
I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease all the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge
Mama′s in the fact'ry
She ain′t got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He′s lookin' for food
And I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The city fathers they′re trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous.
The ghost of Belle Star she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce.
Mama′s in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy′s in the alley
He′s lookin' for food.
And I′m in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in".
Now the medicine man comes and shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to be bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it′s not poison".
Mama's in the fact′ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He′s lookin′ for food.
And I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo′s math book to get thrown
At Delilah who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks they′re from laughter.
I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after.
Mama's in the fact′ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He′s lookin′ for food.
And I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks home and the college.
I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease all the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge
Mama′s in the fact'ry
She ain′t got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He′s lookin' for food
And I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Writer(s): Bob Dylan Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
