Текст песне
Bob Dylan John Wesley Harding

There must be some way out of here Said the joker to the thief There's too much confusion I can't get no relief Businessmen, they drink my wine Plowmen

these words that I speak I know you've suffered much But in this you are not so unique All of us at times we might work too hard To have it too fast

Down along the cove I spied my true love comin' my way Down along the cove I spied my true love comin' my way I say, "Lord, have mercy, mama It sure

John Wesley Harding Was a friend to the poor He traveled with a gun In every hand All along this countryside He opened a many a door But he was never

As I went out one morning To breathe the air around Tom Paines I spied the fairest damsel That ever did walk in chains I offered her my hand She took

There was a wicked messenger, from Eli he did come With a mind that multiplied the smallest matter When questioned who had sent for him He answered with

me going, retains my sanity The nights I spend alone when there's just Phil Ochs, Bob Dylan, Steve Goodman, David Blue and me And me Phil Ochs, Bob Dylan

Превод: Дилан, Боб. Џон Весли Хардинг.

Превод: Џон Весли Хардинг. Пхил Оцхс, Боб Дилан, Стив Гудмен, Дејвид Плава Анд Ме.