Bob Dylan Po’Boy  Acoustic 

Bob Dylan – Po’ Boy (Live Debut 2001)

Bob Dylan – Po’ Boy 2009

Before I started to gather materials for a review of Bob Dylan’s Po’ Boy I had not appreciated how oft-use the phrase “Po’ Boy” or “Poor Boy” is in American culture.  It doesn’t have the same resonance in the UK, which is probably why I’ve never quite got the song – until now.  And as you will see if you read on, even now I’m struggling.

What I did know was that there was an Elvis Presley song “Poor Boy” from 1965, so just in case you fancy a bit of Elvis here it is…

That song is not to everyone’s taste I am sure but it is certainly worth a listen if you feel like branching out.  The song changes as it progresses, so don’t take the opening as symptomatic of the whole thing.

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Discussion on Expectingrain.com 

 Here’s the lyrics to Po’ Boy (taken from the official Dylan website). I love this song and just wanted to talk a little about the lyrics with you other Dylan nerds (-; Without knowing more about it than I do right now, I just think about the song as a picture of a man/boy being a little naive and sweet being fooled by harsh reality and all told by the song in a jokingly, very sweet and lovely way… (-; I think one doesn’t really need to know more but it’s always interesting to share ones ideas and knowledge and I’d love to hear yours. So here it goes:

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Man comes to the door—I say, “For whom are you looking?”
He says, “Your wife,” I say, “She’s busy in the kitchen cookin’”
Poor boy—where you been?
I already tol’ you—won’t tell you againI say, “How much you want for that?” I go into the store
The man says, “Three dollars.” “All right,” I say, “Will you take four?”
Poor boy—never say die
Things will be all right by and byBeen workin’ on the mainline—workin’ like the devil
The game is the same—it’s just on a different level
Poor boy—dressed in black
Police at your backPoor boy in a red hot town
Out beyond the twinklin’ stars
Ridin’ first-class trains—making the rounds
Tryin’ to keep from fallin’ between the carsOthello told Desdemona, “I’m cold, cover me with a blanket
By the way, what happened to that poison wine?”
She says, “I gave it to you, you drank it”
Poor boy, layin’ ’em straight—pickin’ up the cherries fallin’ off the plateTime and love has branded me with its claws
Had to go to Florida, dodgin’ them Georgia laws
Poor boy, in the hotel called the Palace of Gloom
Calls down to room service, says send up a room

My mother was a daughter of a wealthy farmer
My father was a traveling salesman, I never met him
When my mother died, my uncle took me in—he ran a funeral parlor
He did a lot of nice things for me and I won’t forget him

All I know is that I’m thrilled by your kiss
I don’t know any more than this
Poor boy, pickin’ up sticks
Build ya a house out of mortar and bricks

Knockin’ on the door, I say, “Who is it and where are you from?”
Man says, “Freddy!” I say, “Freddy who?” He says, “Freddy or not here I come”
Poor boy ’neath the stars that shine
Washin’ them dishes, feedin’ them swine 

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