Highway 51

This is called talkin' John Birch Blues
And there ain't nothing wrong with this song

Well, I was feelin' sad and kinda blue
I didn't know what I was gonna do
They communists was comin' around
They was in the air
They was on the ground
They was all over

So, I run down most hurriedly
And joined the Birch Society
I got me a secret membership card
I went back home to the yard
Started looking on the sidewalk
Under the hedges

Well, I got up in the mornin' I looked under my bed
I was lookin' every places for them gol-darned Reds
Looked behind the sink, and under the door
Looked in the glove compartment of my car
Couldn't find any

Look behind the cloths, behind the chair
Lookin' for them Reds everywhere
I looked way up my chimney hole
Even looked deep inside my toilet bowl
They got away

I heard some footsteps by the front porch door
I grabbed my shortgun from the floor
Snuck around the house with a huff and a hiss
"Saying hands up you communist"
It was the mail man, he punched me out

Well, I was sittin' home an' started to sweat
I figured they was in my T.V. set
I peeked behind the picture frame
Got a shock from my feet, right up in the brain
Them reds did it
Hooting in the television

Well, I quit my job, so I could work alone
Got a magnifying glass like Sherlock Holmes
Followed some clues from my detective bag
And discovered red stripes on the American flag
Betty Ross

Now Eisenhower, he's a Russian spy
Lincoln, and Jefferson and then Roosevelt guy
To my knowledge, there's just one man
That's really and truly an American
That's George Lincoln Rockwell
I know for a fact he hates Commies
'Cause he picketed the movie Exodus

Well, I finally started thinkin' straight
When I run outta things to investigate
I couldn't imagine nothin' else
So now I'm home investigatin' myself
Hope I don't find out too much, good God



Credits
Writer(s): Bob Dylan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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