CAN YOU SING ANY DYLAN?                Eric Bogle

       D                      G
At the age of nineteen, I was young, I was keen,
  D                    A
I had just one burning ambition
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To be a folk singer, a dope-smokin' swinger
         D               A             D
And sing songs that were steeped in tradition
  G                   D
I bought a guitar and practised real hard
  G                           A
I wasn't much good, but I was willin'
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Till to my chagrin my girlfriend come in
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And she said "Can you sing any Dylan?"


             D         G
     I said "No! No! a thousand times No!
         D                          A
     I'd rather see my life's blood spillin'
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     Well I'll sing anything, even God Save The King,
           D               A       D
     But I just won't sing any Bob Dylan"



Well I travelled far with me guitar
And I was tryin' to gain recognition,
And I sung 'The Wild Rover' from Dundee to Dover
In pubs, clubs and in Seamens' Missions.
I travelled the road for seven long years
The pace it really was killin'
But wherever I went, from Gwyder to Ghent
People said "Can you sing any Dylan?"


I said...


Well I struggled on, though the magic had gone,
But I just felt a deep sense of failure,
So I thought that I'd go to where all failures go (then I'd blow)
And I boarded the boat to Australia
Well I came in as the sun it shone down   (When I landed at Sydney...)
And the view it was lovely and thrillin'  (on a view...)
Till, seeing me case, with a smile on his face,  (spotting me...)
Customs said "Can you sing any Dylan?"

I said...  (Aussie accent)  (....Mate!)


Well I still struggled on, though the magic was gone,
And people just wouldn't hear my singin'
Over here's just the same, there's no road to fame
No applause in me ear'oles was ringin'
The last straw come at a local Motel:
I had this young chick, she was willin',
Well she said "Yes" and put me hand up her dress,
But she said "If you'll sing me some Dylan".

(Alternate:
Well, ever since then, again and again,
I get asked the same bloody question,
And I usually reply, in my own quiet way,
With a totally indecent suggestion.)
The last straw come at a local Motel:
I had this young chick, she was willin',
And though she said "Yes" - even took off her dress -
Then she said "If you'll sing some Bob Dylan".

I said Nooooooooooo! ...

Well I tell you, friends, that was the end
Of all me traditional aspirations:
If being a folkie's going to cut off me Nookie
There's just one way to end this frustration.
The very next night at the local folk club,
The audience, as usual, was millin',
So I took off me coat and I ruptured me throat
And I sang a song just like Bob Dylan...

           G            Em         C        G
     'Come gather round people wherever you roam,
            G            Em      D
      And admit that the waters around you have grown
            G            Em             C               G
      And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone.
                                   D
      If your time to you is worth savin'
                              D/C                D/B         D/A
      Then you'd better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone
              G                D    G     D....
      For the times they are a-changin'

(Alternate:
      G           A               D               G
      Hey, Mister Tambourine man, play a song for me,
              D                G                  A
      I'm not weary, and there ain't no place I'm going to.
      G           A               D               G
      Hey, Mister Tambourine man, play a song for me:
              D             G                 A         D
      In your jingle-jangle morning I'll come following you.)


The audience went WILD - man, woman and child,
And they clapped till their raw hands were bleedin',
And they said, so discreet, that me style was unique
And just what the folk scene here was needin'.
So all you young Folkies who bash out a chord,
If you want to gain the top billin',               ('tain the...)
Just murder your throat and sing through your nose   (good prose)
And then you can sound just like Bob Dylan.