Bob Dylan – I Shall Be Free No.10 Lyrics  Share

From Bob Dylan's album: Another Side of Bob Dylan

I^,m just average, common too
I^,m just like him, the same as you
I^,m everybody^,s brother and son
I ain^,t different from anyone
It ain^,t no use a-talking to me
It^,s just the same as talking to you.

I was shadow-boxing earlier in the day
I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay
I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay, here I come
26, 27, 28, 29, I^,m gonna make your face look just like mine
Five, four, three, two, one, Cassius Clay you^,d better run
99, 100, 101, 102, your ma won^,t even recognize you
14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleen."

Well, I don^,t know, but I^,ve been told
The streets in heaven are lined with gold
I ask you how things could get much worse
If the Russians happen to get up there first.
Wowee! Pretty scary!

Now, I^,m liberal, but to a degree
I want ev^,rybody to be free
But if you think that I^,ll let Barry Goldwater
Move in next door and marry my daughter
You must think I^,m crazy!
I wouldn^,t let him do it for all the farms in Cuba.

Well, I set my monkey on the log
And ordered him to do the Dog
He wagged his tail and shook his head
And he went and did the Cat instead
He^,s a weird monkey, very funky.

I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on
Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun
I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist
[ I Shall Be Free No.10 lyrics from
http://www.musiclyricsnow.net/b/bob-dylan/i-shall-be-free-no10/ ]
And my wig-hat was falling in my face
But they wouldn^,t let me on the tennis court.

I gotta woman, she^,s so mean
She sticks my boots in the washing machine
Sticks me with buckshot when I^,m nude
Puts bubblegum in my food
She^,s funny, wants my money, calls me "honey."

Now I gotta friend who spends his life
Stabbing my picture with a bowie-knife
Dreams of strangling me with a scarf
When my name comes up he pretends to barf.
I^,ve got a million friends!

Now they asked me to read a poem
At the sorority sister^,s home
I got knocked down and my head was swimmin^,
I wound up with the Dean of Women
Yippee! I^,m a poet, and I know it.
Hope I don^,t blow it.

I^,m gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange
So I look like a walking mountain range
And I^,m gonna ride into Omaha on a horse
Out to the country club and the golf course.
Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds.

Now you^,re probably wondering by now
Just what this song is all about
What^,s probably got you baffled more
Is what this thing here is for.
It^,s nothing
It^,s something I learned over in England.
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