Duluth’s an iron ore shipping town in Minnesota

It’s built up on a rocky cliff that runs into Lake Superior

I was born there — my father was born there —

My mother’s from the Iron Range Country up north

The Iron Range is a long line a mining towns

that begin at Grand Rapids and end at Eveleth

We moved up there to live with my mother’s folks

in Hibbing when I was young —

Hibbing’s got the biggest open pit ore mine in the world

Hibbing’s got schools, churches, grocery stores an’ a jail

It’s got high school football games an’ a movie house

Hibbing’s got souped-up cars runnin’ full blast

on a Friday night

Hibbing’s got corner bars with polka bands

You can stand at one end of Hibbing’s main drag

an’ see clear past the city limits on the other end

Hibbing’s a good ol’ town

I ran away from it when I was 10, 12, 13, 15, 151/2, 17 an’ 18

I been caught an’ brought back all but once

I wrote my first song to my mother an’ titled it “To Mother”

I wrote that in 5th grade an’ the teacher gave me a B+

I started smoking at 11 years old an’ only stopped once

to catch my breath

I don’t remember my parents singing too much

At least I don’t remember swapping any songs with them

Later I sat in college at the University of Minnesota

on a phony scholarship that I never had

I sat in science class an’ flunked out for refusin’ to watch

a rabbit die

I got expelled from English class for using four-letter words

in a paper describing the English teacher

I also failed out of communication class for callin’ up

every day and sayin’ I couldn’t come

I did OK in Spanish though but I knew it beforehand

I’s kept around for kicks at a fraternity house

They let me live there an’ I did until they wanted me to join

I moved in with two girls from South Dakota

in a two-room apartment for two nights

I crossed the bridge to 14th Street an’ moved in above

a bookstore that also sold bad hamburgers

basketball sweatshirts an’ bulldog statues

I fell hard for an actress girl who kneed me in the guts

an’ I ended up on the East Side a the Mississippi River

with about ten friends in a condemned house underneath

the Washington Avenue Bridge just south a Seven Corners

That’s pretty well my college life

After that I thumbed my way to Galveston, Texas in four days

tryin’ to find an ol’ friend whose ma met me

at the screen door and said he’s in the Army —

By the time the kitchen door closed

I was passin’ California — almost to Oregon —

I met a waitress in the woods who picked me up

an’ dropped me off in Washington someplace

I danced my way from the Indian festivals in Gallup, New Mexico

To the Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Louisiana

With my thumb out, my eyes asleep, my hat turned up

an’ my head turned on

I’s driftin’ an’ learnin’ new lessons

I was making my own depression

I rode freight trains for kicks

An’ got beat up for laughs

Cut grass for quarters

An’ sang for dimes

Hitchhiked on 61 — 51 — 75 — 169 — 37 — 66 — 22

Gopher Road — Route 40 an’ Howard Johnson Turnpike

Got jailed for suspicion of armed robbery

Got held for four hours on a murder rap

Got busted for looking like I do

An’ I never done none a them things

Somewheres back I took time to start plain’ the guitar

Somewheres back I took the time to start singin’

Somewheres back I took the time to start writin’

But I never did take the time to find out why

I took the time to do those things — when they ask

Me why an’ where I got started, I gotta shake my head

an’ weave my eyes an’ walk away dumfounded

From Shreveport I landed in Madison, Wisconsin

From Madison we filled up a four-door Pontiac with five people

An’ shot straight south an’ sharp to the East an’

in 24 hours was still hanging on through the Hudson Tunnel —

Gettin’ out in a snowstorm an’ wavin’ goodbye

to the three others, we swept on to MacDougal Street

with five dollars between us — but we weren’t poor

I had my guitar an’ harmonica to play

An’ he had his brother’s clothes to pawn

In a week, he went back to Madison while I stayed behind an’

Walked a winter’s line from the Lower East Side

to Gerde’s Folk City

In May, I thumbed west an’ took the wrong highway to Florida

Mad as hell an’ tired as well, I scrambled my way back to

South Dakota by keepin’ a truck driver up all day an’ singin’

One night in Cincinnati

I looked up a long time friend in Sioux Falls an’ was let down,

worried blind, and hit hard by seein’ how little we had to say

I rolled back to Kansas, Iowa, Minnesota, lookin’ up

ol’ time pals an’ first-run gals an’ I was beginnin’

to find out that my road an’ their road

is two different kinds a roads

I found myself back in New York City in the middle part

a summer staying on 28th Street with kind, honest

hard-working people who were good to me

I got wrote up in the Times after playin’ in the fall

at Gerde’s Folk City

I got recorded at Columbia after being wrote up in the Times

An’ I still can’t find the time to go back an’ see why an’ where

I started doing what I’m doing

I can’t tell you the influences ’cause there’s too many

to mention an’ I might leave one out

An’ that wouldn’t be fair

Woody Guthrie, sure

Big Joe Williams, yeah

It’s easy to remember those names

But what about the faces you can’t find again

What about the curbs an’ corners an’ cut-offs

that drop out a sight an’ fall behind

What about the records you hear but one time

What about the coyote’s call an’ the bulldog’s bark

What about the tomcat’s meow an’ milk cow’s moo

An’ the train whistle’s moan

Open up yer eyes an’ ears an’ yer influenced

an’ there’s nothing you can do about it

Hibbing’s a good ol’ town

I ran away from it when I was 10, 12, 13, 15, 151/2, 17 an’ 18

I been caught an’ brought back all but once.

Bob Dylan