Robert Allen Zimmerman, mais conhecido como Bob Dylan nasceu em Minnesota no ano de 1941. Aos dez anos de idade Dylan escreveu seus primeiros poemas e, ainda adolescente, aprendeu piano e guitarra sozinho. Começou cantando em grupos de rock, imitando Little Richard e Buddy Holly, mas quando foi para a Universidade de Mineapólis em 1959, voltou-se para a folk music. O primeiro álbum de Dylan foi lançado em 1962 e intitulado"Bob Dylan". No ano seguinte ele lança "The Freewhellin' Bob Dylan" que trazia "Blowin' In The Wind"
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------# #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the # #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. # #------------------------------------------------------------------------------## #
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------# #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the # #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. # #------------------------------------------------------------------------------#
Date: Wed, 18 Dec 1996 11:30:01 -0600 From: Brian Davies Subject: New Version of Dylan's "Rock Salt And Nails"
Here's a new version of "Rock Salt And Nails", an outtake from "The Basement Tapes" album. This version has complete lyrics and the correct author of the song. Oh esteemed OLGA maintainers, please delete the old version and replace it with this...
- Brian
ROCK SALT AND NAILS by Bruce "Utah" Phillips
As arranged by Bob Dylan Transcription by Brian Davies ([email protected]) Attribution and lyric help from Peter Stone Brown ([email protected])
[C#] [C#] [F#] [C#]
On the banks of the [C#] river, where the willows hang [C#] down, Where the wild birds all [A#m] warble with a low moaning [C#] sound, Down in the [A#m] hollow where the water runs [C#] cold, It's there I have [F#] listened to the lies that you [C#] told.
Now I lie on my [C#] bed and I see your sweet [C#] face. The past I re[A#m]member, time cannot e[C#]rase. The letters you [A#m] wrote me were written in [C#] shame, And I know that your [F#] conscience still echos my [C#] pain.
Now the nights are so [C#] long, my sorrow runs [C#] deep. Nothing is [A#m] worse than a night without [C#] sleep. I walk out a[A#m]lone, I look at the [C#] sky, Too empty to [F#] sing, too lonesome to [C#] cry.
Now if the ladies were [C#] blackbirds and the ladies were [C#] thrushes, I'd lie there for [A#m] hours in the chilly cold [C#m] marshes. If the ladies were [A#m] squirrels with them high bushy [C#] tails, I'd fill up my [F#] shotgun with rock salt and [C#] nails.