by Bob Dylan



Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby,

Can't buy a thrill.

Well, I've been up all night, baby,

Leanin' on the window sill.

Well, if I die

On top of the hill

And if I don't make it,

You know my baby will.



Don't the moon look good, mama,

Shinin' through the trees?

Don't the brakeman look good, mama,

Flagging down the "Double E"?

Don't the sun look good

Goin' down over the sea?

Don't my gal look fine

When she's comin' after me?



Now the wintertime is coming,

The windows are filled with frost.

I went to tell everybody,

But I could not get across.

Well, I wanna be your lover, baby,

I don't wanna be your boss.

Don't say I never warned you

When your train gets lost.