Released: May 16, 1966

Songwriter: Bob Dylan

Producer: Bob Johnston

(Intro)

Oh, the ragman draws circles
Up and down the block
I’d ask him what the matter was
But I know that he don’t talk
And the ladies treat me kindly
And they furnish me with tape
But deep inside my heart
I know I can't escape

Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

Well, Shakespeare, he’s in the alley
With his pointed shoes and his bells
Speaking to some French girl
Who says she knows me well
And I would send a message
To find out if she’s talked
But the post office has been stolen
And the mailbox is locked

Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

Mona tried to tell me
To stay away from the train line
She said that all the railroad men
Just drink up your blood like wine
And I said, “Oh, I didn’t know that
But then again, there’s only one I’ve met
And he just smoked my eyelids
And punched my cigarette”

Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

Grandpa died last week
And now he’s buried in the rocks
But everybody still talks about
How badly they were shocked
But me, I expected it to happen
I knew he’d lost control
When I, he built a fire on Main Street
And shot it full of holes

Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

Now the senator came down here
Showing everyone his gun
Handing out free tickets
To the wedding of his son
And me, I nearly got busted
And wouldn’t it be my luck
To get caught without a ticket
And be discovered beneath a truck

Oh, Mama, is this really the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

Now the tea preacher looked so baffled
When I asked him why he dressed
With twenty pounds of headlines
Stapled to his chest
But he cursed me when I proved to him
Then I whispered, said “Not even you can hide
You see, you’re just like me
I hope you’re satisfied”

Aw, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

Now the rainman gave me two cures
Then he said, “Jump right in”
The one was Texas medicine
The other was just railroad gin
And like a fool I mixed them
And it strangled up my mind
And now people just get uglier
And I have no sense of time

Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

When Ruthie says come see her
In her honky-tonk lagoon
Where I can watch her waltz for free
’Neath her Panamanian moon
And I say, “Aw come on now
You know ya' know about my debutante”
And she says, “Your debutante just knows what you need
But I know what you want”

Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

Now the bricks lay on Grand Street
Where the neon madmen climb
They all fall there so perfectly
It all seems so well timed
And here I sit so patiently
Waiting to find out what price
You have to pay to get out of
Going through all these things twice

Oh, Mama, is this really the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again

Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan (born Robert Zimmerman May 24, 1941), is an American singer-songwriter, writer, and artist who has influenced popular music and culture for more than five decades. Dylan has especially played a critical role in the American folk music revival.

Dylan’s songs are built from myriad political, social, philosophical and literary influences. Many of his anti-war and civil-rights-influenced songs set social unrest, as journalists widely named him the “spokesman for his generation” in the 1960s.

The musician has a signature change in voice and style in many different albums of his throughout the decades. He has notably explored and experimented with the genres of folk, rap, blues, and rock.