Blind Willie McTell
Bob Dylan & Mark Knopfler Lyrics

Seen the arrow on the doorpost Saying, "This land is condemned All the way from New Orleans To Jerusalem."
Bob Dylan has witnessed a sign that declares entire cities to be doomed, effectively suggesting that there is no rest from judgment or condemnation, neither in New Orleans nor Jerusalem.

I traveled through East Texas Where many martyrs fell And I know no one can sing the blues Like Blind Willie McTell
While traveling through East Texas, Bob Dylan started to understand the weight of suffering among the people that live there, and how nobody could replicate the kind of sorrow conveyed by Blind Willie McTell.

Well, I heard the hoot owl singing As they were taking down the tents The stars above the barren trees Were his only audience Them charcoal gypsy maidens Can strut their feathers well But nobody can sing the blues Like Blind Willie McTell
Bob Dylan recollects that he had a chance encounter with nature that night, which immediately evoked the image of Blind Willie McTell as the inspirer of natural sounds and beauty that only a few people can see or appreciate.

See them big plantations burning Hear the cracking of the whips Smell that sweet magnolia blooming See the ghosts of slavery ships I can hear them tribes a-moaning Hear the undertaker's bell Nobody can sing the blues Like Blind Willie McTell
Bob Dylan recognizes the many shades and forms of pain and injustice that pervade American soil, through a history of slavery, brutality, and death, but he is also convinced that nobody can voice them with the brilliance and authenticity of Blind Willie McTell.

There's a woman by the river With some fine young handsome man He's dressed up like a squire Bootlegged whiskey in his hand There's a chain gang on the highway I can hear them rebels yell And I know no one can sing the blues Like Blind Willie McTell
Through some last vignettes, where imagery depicts the powers of desire and rebellion that characterize human nature, Bob Dylan brings the sense of hopelessness and melancholy that gathers around Blind Willie McTell's music, as if it were the only true instrument to capture the essence of the blues.

Well, God is in heaven And we all want what's His But power and greed and corruptible seed Seem to be all that there is I'm gazing out the window Of the St. James Hotel And I know no one can sing the blues Like Blind Willie McTell
Bob Dylan concludes with a poignant assertion that no matter how much we strive to overcome our limits and reach the divine, we are often trapped by selfishness, corruption, and weakness, and that the only source of redemption and guidance might reside in the music of the blues, with its unmatched ability to expose our humanity and frailty.