Though plain to some folk
His folk crossed the cotton plains
Singing songs of a white man's fallen dreams
And a blackman's haunted screams
All he had was three chords and the truth
So he sang for the convicted when there was no guilty proof
And when the crowds did come and applause
The claps and the cheers lifted the roof
When hewas channelin' Chaplin
And spouting like Thomas
His songs come upon us
With wise words of livin'
Such was the music of Bob Dylan
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