George

You and edgarblythe are the resident Dylan fans, and I can see why...

http://www.slopbucket.com/

Here ya go Edgar ...

Great. I already have a sight that purports to have all the lyrics (but a few are missing). Bobby's my boy.

Not Bob Dylan, but The Incredible String Band:

Cold February
By Robin Williamson

As I beside some winter's fire
Sat writing words strange and steady
Amongst my own internal choir
Came voices to my mind unready
Of those who died on either side
While friends cry o're their bones unburied
Go sighing through the north east winds
These cold days of February

Some clerk with papers and his pen
Some banker with his poison pity
Some captain careless of his men
These fan the flames that maim the cities
And bigots in the name of Christ
By thorny paths obscure and muddy
Can fear to roam through years of cold
Bewailing how their hands are bloody

Whether they were from here or there
Their race and place I would not be heeding
The men who caused such bitterness
If hearts they have let their hearts be bleeding
Who neither for age nor the young child
Would turn the shot of the arms they carried
Go bear the guilt a weary ways
For the cold days of February

Man thinks cause he rules the Earth
He can do with it as he pleases - Dylan

Now there's a woman on my block
Who sits there as the night goes still
And she says who is gonna take away
His license to kill? - Dylan

Say, fbaezer, which ISB album is that song from? Please advise. Thanks!

Hard Rope and Silken Twine.

Not their best. I liked them better when they were with Rose and Licorice.

Our fearless leader thinks of war as a game ...
And the Band Played Waltzing Mathilda

When I was a young man I carried me pack,
and I lived the free life of a rover;
from the Murray's green basin to the dusty Outback
I waltzed my Mathilda all over.
Then in 1915 me country said: "Son,
It's time to stop rambling, there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
and they sent me away to the war.
Gelibolu
And the band played Waltzing Mathilda
When the ship pulled away from the quay,
And amid all the tears,
flag waving and cheers,
we sailed off for Gallipoli.

Well, I remember the terrible day
when our blood stained the sand and the water,
and how in that hell they call Suvla Bay
we were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk he was ready, he'd primed himself well,
he rained us with bullets, and he showered us with shells,
and in five minutes flat we were all blown to hell;
he nearly blew us back home to Australia.
And the band played Waltzing Mathilda
when we stopped to bury our slain.
Well, we buried ours,
and the Turks buried theirs,
then it started all over again.

Oh, those that were living just tried to survive
in that mad world of blood, death and fire,
and for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
while around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
and when I awoke in me hospital bed
and saw what it had done, I wished I was dead;
I never knew there was worse things than dying.
So no more I'll go Waltzing Mathilda
all around the green bush far and near,
for to hump tent and pegs
a man needs both legs.
No more waltzing Mathilda for me.

They collected the wounded, the crippled, the maimed,
and they shipped us back home to Australia:
the armless, the legless, the blind, and the insane,
those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And when the ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where me legs used to be
and thanked Christ there was no one there waiting for me
to grieve, and to mourne, and to pity.
And the band played Waltzing Mathilda
when they carried us down the gangway.
But nobody cheered,
they just stood there and stared;
then they turned all their faces away.

So now every April I sit on my porch
and I watch the parade pass before me.
I see my old comrades how proudly they march
renewing their dreams of past glory.
I see the old men all tired, stiff and worn,
those weary old heroes of a forgotten war,
and the young people ask: What are they marching for?
And I ask myself the same question.
And the band plays Waltzing Mathilda,
and the old men still answer the call.
But year after year
the numbers get fewer,
some day no one will march there at all.

Waltzing Mathilda, Waltzing Mathilda,
Who'll come a-Waltzing-Mathilda with me?
And the ghost may be heard
as they march by the Billabalong
So who'll come a-Waltzing-Mathilda with me?

Dylan 1964


Oh my name it is nothin'
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I's taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side.

Oh the history books tell it
They tell it so well
The cavalries charged
The Indians fell
The cavalries charged
The Indians died
Oh the country was young
With God on its side.

Oh the Spanish-American
War had its day
And the Civil War too
Was soon laid away
And the names of the heroes
I's made to memorize
With guns in their hands
And God on their side.

Oh the First World War, boys
It closed out its fate
The reason for fighting
I never got straight
But I learned to accept it
Accept it with pride
For you don't count the dead
When God's on your side.

When the Second World War
Came to an end
We forgave the Germans
And we were friends
Though they murdered six million
In the ovens they fried
The Germans now too
Have God on their side.

I've learned to hate Russians
All through my whole life
If another war starts
It's them we must fight
To hate them and fear them
To run and to hide
And accept it all bravely
With God on my side.

But now we got weapons
Of the chemical dust
If fire them we're forced to
Then fire them we must
One push of the button
And a shot the world wide
And you never ask questions
When God's on your side.

In a many dark hour
I've been thinkin' about this
That Jesus Christ
Was betrayed by a kiss
But I can't think for you
You'll have to decide
Whether Judas Iscariot
Had God on his side.

So now as I'm leavin'
I'm weary as Hell
The confusion I'm feelin'
Ain't no tongue can tell
The words fill my head
And fall to the floor
If God's on our side
He'll stop the next war.



Copyright © 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGIN'
(Words and Music by Bob Dylan)
1963, 1968 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.