Bob Dylan’s eighty-one today.
A man who has a lot to say.
In Hibbing, where the poet grew,
was raised up Roger Maris, too.
The gopher city we must hail
also bred Kevin McHale.
But Bob became a restless beast,
took his guitar, headed east.
When Bob showed up in NYC,
the Village scene made history.
Folk and jazz and honky tonk.
Honk if you like Dave Van Ronk.
Later, when he electrified,
some thought his career had died.
But he wrote five hundred songs.
Some are even sing-alongs.
Many anthems of our ages
are found in his lyrics pages.
No singer’s been this exciting.
Won the Nobel Prize for writing.
Maintains his air of mystery,
even after age eighty.
Happy birthday, Mighty Bob.
You’ve done one hell of a job.
