Bob Dylan took up the baton from Woody Guthrie – writing songs with a story and a social message. Nobody had ever achieved such incredible popularity by doing such things. He brought social issues, civil rights and war into the consciousness of the younger generation and challenged the prevailing attitudes of the establishment.
This song is about a black sharecropper who was starving to death with the whole of his family. In desperation he shot them and himself.
It resonates with these times of desperation created by the austerity policy.
“Ballad Of Hollis Brown”
He lived on the outside of town
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
With his wife and five children
And his cabin brokin’ down.
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
Your children are so hungry
That they don’t know how to smile.
Your baby’s eyes look crazy
They’re a-tuggin’ at your sleeve
Your baby’s eyes look crazy
They’re a-tuggin’ at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe.
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
If there’s anyone that knows
Is there anyone that cares ?
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
Your empty pocket tell you
That you ain’t a-got no friend.
Your babies are crying louder now
It’s pounding on your brain
Your babies are crying louder now
It’s pounding on your brain
Your wife’s screams are stabbin’ you
Like the dirty drivin’ rain.
Your grass is turning black
There’s no water in your well
Your grass is turning black
There’s no water in your well
Your spent your last lone dollar
On seven shotgun shels.
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Your eyes fix on the shortgun
That’s hangin’ on the wall.
Your brain is a-bleedin’
And your legs can’t seem to stand
Your brain is a-bleedin’
And your legs can’t seem to stand
Your eyes fix on the shortgun
That you’re holdin’ in your hand.
There’s seven breezes a-blowin’
All around the cabin door
There’s seven breezes a-blowin’
All around the cabin door
Seven shots ring out
Like the ocean’s pounding roar.
There’s seven people dead
On a south Dakota farm
There’s seven people dead
On a south Dakota farm
Somewhere in the distance
There’s seven new people born.
This is a powerful take on despair. Dylan s lyrics are as usual brillant. The arrangement reminds me of a Tom Rush number on Blues, Ballads….
Yes – this was Dylan in his social comment, civil rights mode. The Tom Rush album is brilliant and comes out of that same Greenwich Village scene.
Thanks for the comment – best wishes Opher