Old Blues Lyrics Policeman Said I Didnt Live Here Anymore
VD SONGS
(Woody Guthrie)
- VD Blues
- VD GUNNER'Due south BLUES (LANDLADY)
- VD SEAMANS Concluding Letter
- VD Waltz
Lyrics as performed past Bob Dylan on Minnesota Hotel Tape, December 22, 1961;
transcribed by Manfred Helfert.
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Well, I heard folks tellin' them VD blues ain't bad,
Well, I heard folks tellin' them VD blues own't bad,
These VD blues are the worst I ever had.Well, I got disgusted to sail down on a spree,
Well, I got disgusted and I sailed down on a spree,
When I got dorsum home, I had that onetime VD.Well, I had bad dreams, I could not sleep in bed,
Well, I had bad dreams, I could not sleep in bed,
I was ashamed to say it'southward the VD blues I had.VD requite me chills and requite me the creepers, too,
VD requite me the dejection, it give me the creepers, also,
Well, my mind went blank and I didn't know what to exercise.Heard folks tellin' these VD blues ain't bad,
Yep, I heared folks tellin' these VD blues own't bad,
But these VD blues are some of the worst I've ever had.
VD GUNNER'S BLUES (LANDLADY) (Woody Guthrie)
Lyrics equally performed by Bob Dylan on Minnesota Hotel Tape, Dec 22, 1961;
transcribed by Manfred Helfert.
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Landlady, hey, landlady,
Push your window loftier.
Landlady, hey, landlady,
Push upwards your window screen.
Well, I've come to kill that woman
That requite me the old VD.Quit your beatin', terminate your bangin',
Quit kickin' upwards around my door.
Quit your beatin', finish your bangin',
Quit kickin' up around my door.
Well, that woman who requite you lot the VD,
She don't live here no more.Landlady, landlady,
You're tellin' me a lie.
Landlady, landlady,
Tellin' me a prevarication.
At that place'south a dose of hot atomic number 82
To finish your lyin' tongue.Blow your whistle, policeman,
My poor feet are bound to run.
Blow your whistle, policeman,
My poor feet are bound to run.
But I won't cease my runnin'
'Til I go that VD woman with my gun.I tin hear your bullets slingin',
Sweet bullets from your deputy's gun.
I tin hear 'em slingin' past me,
Sweet bullets from that deputy's gun.
From this hole in my dorsum,
I tin experience my heart-blood run.
VD SEAMANS LAST Alphabetic character (Woody Guthrie)
from McKenzie manuscripts, Summertime 1961;
starting time transcribed by Chris C. in "Isis", No. 44, Aug-Sep 1992.
When I take my pencil and paper my dearest in my hand,
The plans that nosotros dreamed like wild waves like in my mind.
And the cottage and kids that we dreamed of will never come up true.
I've got that old siff and I'll not bring it home beloved to yous.I can't write then patently for my boat rides a loftier pitching sea,
As you read my words there's no telling where I would be.
You kept your promise y'all saved all your kisses for me,
I broke my vows and I'yard wrecked with that ol' VD.I sit on the border of my bunk dear to write y'all these lines,
And the rest of my coiffure they're sleeping the land of their dreams.
As I walk the deck and wait out on the bounding main an skies
I hear of your weeping my sifless will bring to your life.I can taste your wet lips equally you kissed me goodbye at the pier,
An' the splash of the foams I can hear your sugariness words in my ear.
Go along yourself healthy and proceed yourself clean oh my dear,
We will kiss again here if your gone for a week or a year.Each time the wild waves rise up my love sinks more than.
My **** I steer right to your shore.
I tossed this away for a drink in that gamblin' house bar,
With the siff as my cargo, I'll dock in your harbour no more.Well the words of my letters they're soaked in my unfaithful tears,
The storm it is worst and now all of my dreams I have speared
it
I'll drown in my sifless somewhere in this wild humid foam.Come all y'all salt seamen that walk on that land oR the waves,
Don't allow a wild hour (bury)(lose) all your hopes in the grave,
Steer from that quicksand and canvass to your brightest of stars.
Don't let that sifless wreck you in these hot fiery waves.
VD WALTZ (Woody Guthrie)
Lyrics as performed past Bob Dylan on Minnesota Hotel Tape, Dec 22, 1961;
transcribed by Manfred Helfert.
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All the birds are singin' in the mornin' copse,
Merely the birds are not singin' for me.
My man did meet with a flirt on the street,
Gave him a instance of VD.I begged him to look upward a doctor and go,
It broke out all over his pare.
But he rubbed hisself with some dark drugstore salve
And he said, "It's not the VD.""I been in the Army, in the Merchant Marines,
My dear wife, long plenty to know
That lilliputian red... little hot rashes that fire on my skin
Are not the VD, I'k sure."
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