God said to Dylan, write me a song
Bob said, man, you’re putting me on.
God said no, you’re so wise
The news said you won a prize.
Oh I’m feeling stuck now said Bob with a whine
Let me start out on a bottle of wine
There must be a way out of here
That’s the news I want to hear.
You worry too much anyhow
God said, you should know by now
Listen to the ship’s bell
‘Cause you won the Nobel.
Nobel, said Bob, what the hell?
It rhymes with Belle, the Memphis Belle
Never heard of it, though it sounds hip
Gotta bring it back to the ship.
The countess told me to go to Oslo
I took the train but that was too slow
I thought I’d asked the mighty Quinn
He wasn’t in so I asked R.K. Linne.
Bob, he said, you need to dress so fine
Greet the queen and sip the wine
Go to Stockkolm as a complete unknown
Grab the prize and bring it home.
But should the hour be too late
For the poet to meet his fate
To grab his pants and get out of bed,
Then, my friend, I’ll go in your stead