From: larpe@oden.nts.mh.se (Petter Larsson) Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands - Bob Dylan ------------------------------------------- ('Blonde on Blonde' album)

With your ^Dmercury ^Amouth in the m^Gissionary ^Em7times, ^A7 And your ^Deyes like ^Asmoke and your pr^Gayers like r^Emhymes, ^A7 And your ^Gsilver ^F#mcross, and your vo^Em7ice ^A7like ^Dchimes, Oh, who among them do they t^Em7hink could bu^Ary you^Em' ^A7 With your ^Dpockets ^Awell prot^Gected at ^Em7last, ^A7 And your ^Dstreetcar^A visions which you pl^Gace on the^Em grass, ^A7 And your ^Gflesh like ^F#msilk, and your f^Em7ace ^A7like ^Dglass, Who among them do they t^Em7hink could carry you'^A ^Em ^A7

---- Chorous:

^EmSad eyed lady of the ^Dlowla^A7nds, ^EmWhere the sad eyed prophet says that ^Dno man co^A7mes, My wareh^F#mouse e^Gyes, m^Dy A^Grab^Dian d^Em7rums, ^A7 ^EmShould I leave them by your ^Em7gate, ^A ^Em ^A Or ^Emsad eyed lady, should I ^Dwait' ^A7 ^D

---- With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace, And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace, And your basement clothes and your hollow face, Who among them can think he could outguess you' With your sillouette when the sunlight dims Into your eyes where the moonlight swims, And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns, Who among them would try to impress you' [Chorous] The kings of Tyrus with their convict list Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss, And you wouldn't know it would happen like this, But who among them really wants just to kiss you' With your childhood flames on your midnight rug, And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs, And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs, Who among them do you think could resist you' [Chorous] Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide To show you the dead angels that they used to hide. But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side' Oh, how could they ever mistake you' They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm, But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm, And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms, How could they ever, ever persuade you' [Chorous] With your sheet metal memory of Cannery Row, And your magazine-husband who one day just had to go, And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show, Who among them do you think would employ you' Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole With your holy medallion which your fingertips fold, And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul, Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you' [Chorous] . Pheew ! ........ ------- Typed by Petter Larsson , larpe@nts.mh.se

Bob Dylan - Sad eyed lady of the lowlands