Intro 1
F C F C F C
Verse 1
C
I've got
graveyard women,
you know they keep the kids
But my soulful mommy,
you know she keeps me hid
F
She's a junkyard angel
C
and she also gives me bread
G
Well, if I go down dying,
F
you know she's bound to put
C
a blanket on my bed
Well, when a pipeline gets lost,
you know, by the river bridge
And I'm all cracked up by
Instrumental
F
She comes runnin' down the thruway
C
With her kind of mate and her friend
G
Well, if I go down down, you know
Dm
She's bound to put a
F C
blanket on my bed
Outro
She don't talk too much
She walks like old Diddley
And she don't need no crutch
F
She keeps the Motel
C
loaded under with the lead
G
Well, if I go down dying,
Dm
you know she's bound to put a
F C F
blanket on my bed
C G
C
Well, I don't need a steam shovel
to keep away the dead
I need a dump truck
and momma to unload my head
F
She brings me everything I want,
C
besides, like I said
G
Well, if I go downtown,
you know
F Dm F Dm
she's bound to put a blanket on
C F
my bed
C G Gm Dm
C
Outro 1
You
C
I got this graveyard woman, you know she keeps my kid
But my soulful mama, you know she keeps me hid
She's a junkyard angel and she always gives me bread
Well, if I go down dyin', you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, when the pipeline gets broken and I'm lost on the river bridge
I'm cracked up on the highway and on the water's edge
She comes down the thruway ready to sew me up with thread
Well, if I go down dyin', you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, she don't make me nervous, she don't talk too much
She walks like Bo Diddley and she don't need no crutch
She keeps this four-ten all loaded with lead
Well, if I go down dyin', you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, you know I need a steam shovel mama to keep away the dead
I need a dump truck mama to unload my head
She brings me everything and more, and just like I said
Well, if I go down dyin', you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Traducción literaria al español — fiel al sentimiento del autor, no es cantable.
Tengo esta mujer del cementerio, que cuida a mi hijo
Pero mi alma mater, sabés que me mantiene escondido
Es un ángel del desguace y siempre me da el pan
Si me voy muriendo, ya sé que va a taparme con su manta al final.
Cuando el caño se rompe y me pierdo en el puente del río
Estoy hecho mierda en la ruta y al borde del vacío
Baja por la autopista lista para coserme con el hilo
Si me voy muriendo, ya sé que va a taparme con su manta al final.
No me pone nervioso, no habla demasiado
Camina como Bo Diddley y no necesita apoyo
Tiene esta cuatro diez cargada con plomo
Si me voy muriendo, ya sé que va a taparme con su manta al final.
Necesito una pala mecánica para mantener los muertos a raya
Necesito un camión volcador para vaciarme la cabeza
Me trae todo y más, como ya lo dije aquí
Si me voy muriendo, ya sé que va a taparme con su manta al final.
Traducción literaria al italiano — fiel al sentimiento del autor, no es cantable.
Ho questa donna del cimitero, sai che tiene mio figlio
Ma la mia anima mater, sai che mi tiene nascosto
È un angelo dei rottami e mi dà sempre il pane
Beh, se me ne vado morendo, sai che mi metterà una coperta sul letto.
Beh, quando il gasdotto si rompe e mi perdo sul ponte del fiume
Sono a pezzi sull'autostrada e sul bordo dell'acqua
Lei scende dall'autostrada pronta a ricucirmi col filo
Beh, se me ne vado morendo, sai che mi metterà una coperta sul letto.
Beh, lei non mi mette a disagio, non parla troppo
Cammina come Bo Diddley e non ha bisogno di stampelle
Tiene questo fucile calibro dieci carico di piombo
Beh, se me ne vado morendo, sai che mi metterà una coperta sul letto.
Beh, sai che ho bisogno di una mamma escavatrice per tenere lontani i morti
Ho bisogno di una mamma con un camion per svuotare la mia testa
Lei mi porta tutto e di più, e come ho detto
Beh, se me ne vado morendo, sai che mi metterà una coperta sul letto.
Traducción literaria al portugués — fiel al sentimiento del autor, no es cantable.
Eu tenho essa mulher do cemitério, que cuida do meu filho
Mas minha mama da alma, ela me mantém escondido
Ela é um anjo do ferro-velho e sempre me dá o pão
Se eu for morrendo, ela vai me cobrir com um cobertor.
Quando o cano arrebenta e eu me perco na ponte do rio
Estou destruído na estrada e na beira da água
Ela desce pela via expressa pronta pra me costurar
Se eu for morrendo, ela vai me cobrir com um cobertor.
Ela não me deixa nervoso, não fala demais
Ela anda que nem Bo Diddley e não precisa de bengala
Ela mantém essa espingarda calibre quarenta e dez carregada
Se eu for morrendo, ela vai me cobrir com um cobertor.
Eu preciso de uma escavadeira, mama, pra manter os mortos longe
Preciso de um caminhão basculante, mama, pra descarregar minha cabeça
Ela me traz tudo e mais, como eu já disse
Se eu for morrendo, ela vai me cobrir com um cobertor.
La historia detrás
From a Buick 6 kicks off with a dry drum hit that sounds almost identical to the opening of Like a Rolling Stone — the first track on Highway 61 Revisited. It's no coincidence: both were recorded at Columbia, New York, during the same sessions in the summer of 1965. The song is a pure twelve-bar blues, with a chord progression that follows the riff model of Robert Johnson, Charlie Patton, and Big Joe Williams. It has direct roots in Sleepy John Estes's Milk Cow Blues — it even borrows verses from it — although the approach is closer to the version The Kinks did of a same-titled song by Kokomo Arnold. In the studio on that July 30, 1965, were Al Kooper on organ, Mike Bloomfield on guitar, Bobby Gregg on drums, and Harvey Brooks on bass. Bob Dylan adds a harmonica solo. It served as the B-side of the single Positively 4th Street and later appeared on the album. With that rhythmic foundation and those straightforward chords, it's a good exercise for understanding how Dylan absorbed classic blues and plugged it in.