Santa-Fe,
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Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa-Fe,
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My woman needs it ev'ryday,
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She promised this a-lad she'd stay,
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She's rollin' up a lotta bread
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To toss away.
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She's in Santa-Fe,
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Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa-Fe
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Now she's opened up an old maid's home,
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She's proud, but she needs to roam,
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She's gonna write herself a roadside poem,
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About Santa-Fe.
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Santa-Fe,
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Dear, dear, dear, dear Santa-Fe.
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Since I'm never gonna cease to roam,
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I'm never, ever far from home,
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But I'll build a geodesic dome
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And sail away.
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Don't feel bad.
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No, no, no, no, don't feel bad
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It's the best food I've ever had.
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Makes me feel so glad
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That she's cooking in a home-made pad
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She never caught a cold so bad
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When I'm away.
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Santa-Fe,
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Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa-Fe.
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My shrimp boat's in the bay
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I won't have my nature this way,
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And I'm leanin' on the wheel each day
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To drift away
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From Santa-Fe,
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Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa-Fe.
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My sister looks good at home,
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She's lickin' on an ice cream cone,
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She's packin' her big white comb,
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What does it weigh?
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-----------------
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Santa Fe
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Bob Dylan |