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Bob Dylan - The Real Bob Dylan - Blind Willie McTell
The Real Bob Dylan
Disc 1
01. Talkin' New York
02. Song to Woody
03. A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall
04. The Times They Are A-Changing
05. With God on Our Side
06. Chimes of Freedom
07. Boots of Spanish Leather
08. Mr. Tambourine Man
09. It's Alright Ma
10. Like a Rolling Stone
11. I Want You
12. Positively Fourth Street
13. Down Along the Cove
14. All Along the Watchtower
15. I'll Be Your Baby Tonight
16. Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You
Disc 2
01. If Not for You
02. You Aint Goin' Nowhere
03. Forever Young
04. Watching the River Flow
05. Knockin' on Heaven's Door
06. On a Night Like This
07. The Mighty Quinn
08. Precious Angel
09. Tangled Up in Blue
10. Gotta Serve Somebody
11. One More Cup of Coffee
12. Changing of the Guards
13. Hurricane
14. Buckets of Rain
Disc 3
01. Silvio
02. Foot of Pride
03. Blind Willie McTell
04. Jokerman
05. Pressing On
06. Everything Is Broken
07. Series of Dreams
08. Most of the Time (alternate version)
09. The Groom's Still Waiting at the Altar
10. Every Grain of Sand
11. Sweetheart Like You
12. Brownsville Girl
13. Dignity (alternate version)
14. Dark Eyes
Seen the arrow on the doorpost
Saying this land is condemned
All the way from New Orleans
To Jerusalem

I travel through east Texas
Where many martyrs fell
And I dont know one can sing the blues
Like blind Wille McTell

Well, I heard that hoo-dove singing
As they were taking down the tent
The stars above the barren trees
Was his only audiance

Them charcoal gypsy maidens
Can strut their feathers well
But nobody can sing the blues
Like blind Wille McTell

Seen them big plantations burning
Hear the cracking of the whips
Smell that sweet magnolia blooming
See the ghost of slarvery ship

I can hear them tribes moaning
Hear the undertakers bell
Nobody can sing the blues
Like blind Wille McTell

There's a woman by the river
With some fine young handsome man
He's dressed up like a squier
Bootlegged whiskey in his hand

There's a chain gang on the highway
I can hear them rebells yell
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like blind Wille McTell

Well, God is in his heaven
And we are what was his
But power and greed and corruptible seed
Seem to be all that there is

I'm gazing out the window
Of the St. James Hotel
And I dont know no one that can sing the blues
Like blind Wille McTell