This was the young Folkie Bob Dylan following in the Protest footprints of Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger.
This is a song directed towards a young black girl suffering racism and abuse. Bob directs all his poetic brilliance to give her reassurance and advice. He’s telling her she’s great and she just needs to believe in herself and ignore all the fools that are undermining her.
Good advice. Great song – one of his best. This is what music should be – full of sensitivity and meaning.
This is precisely how Bob changed the whole face of Rock Music. He raised our sensibilities, raised the standard of lyrics and focussed us on social improvement.
Ramona, come closer
Shut softly your watery eyes
The pangs of your sadness
Will pass as your senses will rise
The flowers of the city
Though breathlike, get deathlike at times
And there’s no use in tryin’
To deal with the dyin’
Though I cannot explain that in lines.
Your cracked country lips
I still wish to kiss
As to be by the strength of you skin
Your magnetic movements
Still capture the minutes I’m in
But it grieves my heart, love
To see you tryin’ to be a part of
A world that just don’t existv It’s all just a dream, babe
A vacuum, a scheme, babe
That sucks you into feelin’ like this.
I can see that your head
Has been twisted and fed
With worthless foam from the mouth
I can tell you are torn
Between stayin’ and returnin’
Back to the South
You’ve been fooled into thinking
That the finishin’ end is at hand
Yet there’s no one to beat you
No one to defeat you
‘Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad
I’ve heard you say many times
That you’re better ‘n no one
And no one is better ‘n you
If you really believe that
You know you have
Nothing to win and nothing to lose
From fixtures and forces and friends
Your sorrow does stem
That hype you and type you
Making you feel
That you gotta be just like them.
I’d forever talk to you
But soon my words
They would turn into a meaningless ring
For deep in my heart
I know there is no help I can bring
Just do what you think you should do
And someday, maybe
Who knows, baby
I’ll come and be cryin’ to you.