Bob Dylan

A nonsense poem about dear old Bob.

Old Bob Dylan wrote a bad song once

And, my oh my, he felt a dunce

But then he noticed nobody saw

And so he decided he'd write a couple more

As an experiment

He filled them all with random stuff

Thought 'Surely, that will be enough

To end my wonderful career'

But guess what, the critics all cheer

Said he was a genius!

Provoked by now, he set about

To pour from his creative spout

The worst song ever written down

(Something strange about a clown)

Really weird s**t

But still the people cried for more

And enrolled in courses to explore

What his lyrics really meant

Which added to Bob's discontent

He was mortified

'Til finally he realised

That to be adored and iodized

Was a prison he could not escape

A cruel joke, a bitter jape

The emperor had no clothes

And so Bob shrank from public gaze

And dedicated all his days

To write what he alone admired

Until the day that he retired

Pleased himself,

Didn't care,

We should all be that way