Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands
Bob Dylan Lyrics
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And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes
Oh, do they think could bury you?
With your pockets well protected at last
And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass
And your flesh like silk, and your face like glass
Who could they get to carry you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I put them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace
And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace
And your basement clothes and your hollow face
Who among them can think he could outguess you?
With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims
And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns
Who among them would try to impress you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I put them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
The kings of Tyrus with their convict list
Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss
And you wouldn't know it would happen like this
But who among them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your midnight rug
And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs
Who among them do you think could resist you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
To show you the dead angels that they used to hide
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
Oh, how could they ever mistake you?
They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm
But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm
And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms
How could they ever, ever persuade you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row
And your magazine-husband who one day just had to go
And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show
Who among them do you think would employ you?
Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
With your holy medallion which your fingertips fold
And your saint-like face and your ghostlike soul
Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
The Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands, a song sung by Bob Dylan, is a tribute to his then-wife Sara Lownds. The lyrics are beautiful, intricate, and very personal. The song appears in the Blonde on Blonde album, and it is the longest single ever made by Dylan, lasting for almost twelve and a half minutes. The song starts with an image of a woman, whose "mercury mouth" is reminiscent of the alchemical properties of the metal, and whose "eyes like smoke" evoke an inscrutable, introspective quality. She is wrapped in the religious fervor of "missionary times" and recites her prayers "like rhymes." She also has a "silver cross," a voice like "chimes," and a face as "smooth as glass."
The song goes on to depict the woman's enigmatic character, which cannot be easily deciphered by those around her. She is "well-protected," and her "streetcar visions" seem impregnable. Her "flesh is like silk," and her "sheets like metal and belt like lace" convey a complex, multidimensional personality that has both strength and frailty. But the singer also recognizes her vulnerability and wonders how she will be buried after her passing. He wants to leave his "warehouse eyes" and "Arabian drums" by her gate, but he is unsure if he should wait. The song reaches its pinnacle when the singer asks whether anyone can resist her charms, and are they not all waiting to "kiss" her?
Line by Line Meaning
With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
Your words were powerful and quick like mercury during a time of religious zealotry and conversion.
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
Your eyes were hazy like smoke and your prayers flowed together like poetry.
And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes
You wore a shining cross and your voice had a ringing quality like chimes.
Oh, do they think could bury you?
You were too strong and resilient to be easily defeated or buried.
With your pockets well protected at last
You finally had financial security with your pockets well protected.
And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass
You had grand visions of the future that you would lay out in the open for all to see.
And your flesh like silk, and your face like glass
Your skin was smooth like silk and your features were delicate and translucent like glass.
Who could they get to carry you?
No ordinary person was capable of supporting or carrying you.
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
You were a sorrowful woman residing in the depths of society.
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
The prophetic voice that cries out in sorrowful sadness says that no one can reach you.
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
You were able to see everything and your heart beat like the drums of a faraway land.
Should I put them by your gate
Should I leave my belongings behind with you?
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Or should I wait for the right moment to give them to you?
With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace
Your bedding was as hard and unwelcoming as metal while your belt was delicate and lace-like.
And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace
Your deck of cards was incomplete, lacking the most valuable of cards.
And your basement clothes and your hollow face
The clothes you wore in the basement were plain and your face was sunken and hollowed out.
Who among them can think he could outguess you?
No one could predict or outsmart you.
With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Your shadow appeared as the sunlight faded away.
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims
As moonlight reflected in your eyes, it seemed to swim about.
And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns
Your music was as small and disposable as a matchbook and as free and flowing as a gypsy hymn.
Who among them would try to impress you?
No one would dare attempt to win over or impress you.
The kings of Tyrus with their convict list
The wealthy and powerful leaders of society who held lists of those they had accused and convicted.
Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss
They all await their chance at receiving something as simple and fleeting as a kiss on the cheek.
And you wouldn't know it would happen like this
You couldn't predict that things would turn out this way.
But who among them really wants just to kiss you?
No one truly desires a simple gesture of affection from you.
With your childhood flames on your midnight rug
Memories of earlier years were represented by flames flickering on a rug in the dark of night.
And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs
Your mannerisms were influenced by your Spanish heritage and your mother's medication use.
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs
Your strong and outspoken words were the product of a wild and carefree spirit, even if your actions were subject to curfew.
Who among them do you think could resist you?
No one could resist your fierce spirit.
Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
Groups of people like farmers and businessmen collectively opted for something.
To show you the dead angels that they used to hide
They wished to show you something that they formerly kept hidden from view, something that represents mortality.
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
Of all people, why would they expect you to support and feel for them?
Oh, how could they ever mistake you?
They failed to recognize or understand your true nature.
They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm
They wanted you to take responsibility for a problem or issue involving agriculture.
But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm
You had the vast ocean at your feet, while the panic-inducing alert wasn't even legitimate.
And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms
You held a child belonging to a rebel or delinquent in your embrace.
How could they ever, ever persuade you?
Such attempts to sway or convince you were truly futile.
With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row
You had vivid, unyielding memories of a particular street in a former sardine canning district.
And your magazine-husband who one day just had to go
Your husband, who seemed perfect in your magazine-worthy relationship, eventually left you for reasons unknown.
And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show
Despite newer reservations about showing emotional weakness, you couldn't help but be gentle and kind.
Who among them do you think would employ you?
None of these people would hire you, no matter what your qualifications.
Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
You stand by a criminal, serving as his parole officer.
With your holy medallion which your fingertips fold
Your holy charm was something you clung to, folding it between your fingers.
And your saint-like face and your ghostlike soul
Both your face and soul were akin to that of a holy being or a ghostly apparition.
Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you?
No person had the power or means to break you beyond repair.
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
You remained a sorrowful woman living in the lower rungs of society.
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
The voice of prophecy laments that no one can reach or understand you.
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
You had the able eyes of one who functioned as a warehouse, and your heart beat like the drums of a faraway Arab land.
Should I leave them by your gate
Should I leave all of this with you at your doorstep?
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Or should I wait for you to be ready to receive them?
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: Bob Dylan
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@juancamacho5746
With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
And your silver cross and your voice like chimes
Oh, who do they think could bury you?
With your pockets well-protected at last
And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass
And your flesh like silk and your face like glass
Who could they get to carry you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace
And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace
And your basement clothes and your hollow face
Who among them did think he could outguess you?
With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims
And your matchbook songs and your gypsy hymns
Who among them would try to impress you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
The kings of Tyrus, with their convict list
Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss
And you wouldn't know it would have happened like this
But who among them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your midnight rug
And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs
Who among them do you think could resist you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
To show you where the dead angels are that they used to hide
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
How could they ever mistake you?
They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm
But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm
And with the child of the hoodlum wrapped up in your arms
How could they ever have persuaded you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man's come
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheet metal memory of Cannery Row
And your magazine husband who one day just had to go
And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show
Who among them do you think would employ you?
Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
With your holy medallion in your fingertips now enfold
And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul
Who among them could ever think he could destroy you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
@Ella06232
Tom Waits said of "Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands" in 1991: "It is like Beowulf and it takes me out to the meadow. This song can make you leave home, work on the railroad or marry a Gypsy. I think of a drifter around a fire with a tin cup under a bridge remembering a woman's hair. The song is a dream, a riddle and a prayer".
@RalphDavis-qk2xy
Also visions of our lady in New York harbor.
@oppothumbs1
I sort of dislike the chore of listening to most Tom Waits songs. But this is one of the greatest songs ever by Mr Dylan.
@oppothumbs1
Beautiful, Haunting, of his top 3 songs for me. So well sung, Bob modulates his voice well with his sandpaper vocals now smoother. An earnest voice takes one through a cryptic, surreal love letter to his then-wife, Sara (Lowlands) Lownds. Sara is sad about the state of Bob or is thinking of leaving him.
Though Bob doesn't mention "love" in the song, we feel his love and obsession. Bob's obscure lyrics might confuse one unless one has some history of Sara. Sara has " a mercury mouth in the missionary times". Translation: she's silver-tongued and worked at the New York Times (Missionary Times). "Your flesh like silk, and your face like glass. With your silhouette when the sunlight dims Into your eyes where the moonlight swims And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns (she's writing down lyrics, like a wanna-be Dylan) Who among them would try to impress you?" Send this song in a time capsule to another universe more worthy than ours. Rating 10 PLus.
@peterkoulouris8900
I was 14 in 1966 when this album came out. I begged my mom to buy it for me. Thanks mom. I love you.
@pauljnewmann
And to think, the Beatles' Revolver, and a masterpiece called East-West by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band came out in the same year.
@sanfordshultz1871
I was 13 and I bought it on my own
@steph_knarr
@@sanfordshultz1871 me too
@justina7300
@@pauljnewmann 3 Insanely timeless albums. Not to mention Pet Sounds as well. Great year for pushing the boundaries of music.
@puri6546
What a glorious year