Photo from Hibbing High School, taken the day after Bob Dylan accepted the Nobel prize for literature.

A few thoughts on the occasion in a slight variation of Dylan’s own words.

Someone’s got it in for him, they’re planting stories in the press/ The country he comes from is called the Midwest.  /You may call him Bobby, you may call him Zimmy  /They asked him to read a poem  at the Nobel’s home /he got knocked down and his head was swimmin’ / he wound up with the Dean of Women  /Yippee!  He’s a poet, and he knows it  Hope he don’t blow it./ Every one of his words rang true  and glowed like burnin’ coal,/ pourin’ off of every page Like it was written in his soul from him to you./ He’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it /And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it /Then he’ll stand on the ocean until he starts sinkin’ /But he’ll know his song well before he start singin’/ he’s invisible now, he’s got no secrets to conceal, / the very last thing that he’d want to do/ Is to say he’s been hittin’ some hard travelin’ too. / Distant ships sailing into the mist, he was born with a snake in both of his fists while a hurricane was blowing  /Freedom just around the corner for him, But with the truth so far off, what good will it do?/   Never robbed any churches nor cut off any babies’ heads /He just took the folks in high places  and he shined a light in their beds  /While preachers preach of evil fates Teachers teach that knowledge waits /Can lead to hundred-dollar plates Goodness hides behind its gates/ But even the president of the United States Sometimes must have to stand naked / He set out that night for the cold in the North He gave me his blanket, and I gave him my word/ He said, “Where are we goin’?” I said we’d be back by the fourth/ He said, “That’s the best news that I’ve ever heard”./  His love she’s like some raven at his window with a broken wing /  Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore /You may not see him tomorrow/  He’s been meek and hard like an oak, /  he’s seen pretty people disappear like smoke  / Friends will arrive, friends will disappear,/ If you want Bob, honey baby, he’ll be here  / Gypsy queens will play his grand finale   / Way down in some Tularosa alley /Maybe in La Rio Pecas valley /Bobby, you’re so far away from home, / Bobby, you’re so far away from home.