| Lyrics: | by Bob Dylan
Ten thousand men on a hill,
Ten thousand men on a hill,
Some of 'm
goin' down, some of 'm gonna get killed.
Ten thousand men dressed in oxford
blue,
Ten thousand men dressed in oxford blue,
Drummin' in the morning, in the evening
they'll be coming for you.
Ten thousand men on the move,
Ten thousand men on the
move,
None of them doing nothin' that your mama wouldn't disapprove.
Ten thousand
men digging for silver and gold,
Ten thousand men digging for silver and gold,
All clean
shaven, all coming in from the cold.
Hey! Who could your lover be?
Hey! Who could
your lover be?
Let me eat off his head so you can really see!
Ten thousand women all
dressed in white,
Ten thousand women all dressed in white,
Standin' at my window wishing
me goodnight.
Ten thousand men looking so lean and frail,
Ten thousand men looking
so lean and frail,
Each one of 'em got seven wives, each one of 'em just out of
jail.
Ten thousand women all sweepin' my room,
Ten thousand women all sweepin' my
room,
Spilling my buttermilk, sweeping it up will a broom.
Ooh, baby, thank you for
my tea!
Baby, thank you for my tea!
It's so sweet of you to be so nice to me |
