I first posted this 4 years ago.  Here’s a reprisal in honor of Bob’s Nobel.  After “Song to Woody” by B. Dylan

Hey, Bobby Dylan I wrote you a song
It ain’t very short, on account of it’s long
‘Bout the songs that you wrote when you were a sprout
And the trouble it was to figure them out

So here’s to Dave and to Eric and the rest of your buds
And to the bottles and pints of delectable suds
That you downed with your pals all through those years
I’m surprised you’re still with us after all of them beers

Well I wonder what “Maggie’s farm’s” singing of
Or what “statues made of matchsticks” have to do with true love
I’ve often suspected that most of the time
That there’s nothing you won’t do for the sake of a rhyme

But, hey, Bobby Dylan I know that you know
This stuff I’m a-saying is pretty dang low
Considering how many folks you’ve inspired
Though exactly for what I’ve often inquired

There ain’t no good reason for another damn verse
But I said this was long for better or worse
Here’s my big chance for a Bob Dylan rhyme
So the graveyards and box cutters, all for a dime