Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues lyrics

Well, I was feelin’ sad and feelin’ blue

I didn’t know what in the world I was gonna do

Them Communists they was comin’ around

They was in the air

They was on the ground

They wouldn’t gimme no peace . . .

So I run down most hurriedly

And joined up with the John Birch Society

I got me a secret membership card

And started off a-walkin’ down the road

Yee-hoo, I’m a real John Bircher now!

Look out you Commies!

Now we all agree with Hitler’s views

Although he killed six million Jews

It don’t matter too much that he was a Fascist

At least you can’t say he was a Communist!

That’s to say like if you got a cold you take a shot of malaria

Well, I was lookin’ everywhere for them gol-darned Reds

I got up in the mornin’ ’n’ looked under my bed

Looked in the sink, behind the door

Looked in the glove compartment of my car

Couldn’t find ’em . . .

I was lookin’ high an’ low for them Reds everywhere

I was lookin’ in the sink an’ underneath the chair

I looked way up my chimney hole

I even looked deep down inside my toilet bowl

They got away . . .

Well, I was sittin’ home alone an’ started to sweat

Figured they was in my T.V. set

Peeked behind the picture frame

Got a shock from my feet, hittin’ right up in the brain

Them Reds caused it!

I know they did . . . them hard-core ones

Well, I quit my job so I could work all alone

Then I changed my name to Sherlock Holmes

Followed some clues from my detective bag

And discovered they was red stripes on the American flag!

That ol’ Betsy Ross . . .

Well, I investigated all the books in the library

Ninety percent of ’em gotta be burned away

I investigated all the people that I knowed

Ninety-eight percent of them gotta go

The other two percent are fellow Birchers . . . just like me

Now Eisenhower, he’s a Russian spy

Lincoln, Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy

To my knowledge there’s just one man

That’s really a true American: George Lincoln Rockwell

I know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus

Well, I fin’ly started thinkin’ straight

When I run outa things to investigate

Couldn’t imagine doin’ anything else

So now I’m sittin’ home investigatin’ myself!

Hope I don’t find out anything . . . hmm, great God!

• Artist:Bob Dylan
• Album:The Bootleg Series, Vol 1-3: Rare & Unreleased 1961-1991