Van Ronk worked at the Gaslight
brings me a bottle in a paper bag
drinking songs all through the night
asleep with that guitar in my hands
stunned, stoned or straight

Goodness hides behind its gates
Bloodstream of the blues
in this mythical realm
of dizzy, portentous truth
A frosted silent place

Poet of night stones and the quick earth,
something calling to me to come in,
taste the dust.
A fearsome apparition –
the ghosts race towards the night

Sing something,
fully alive and revved up
Rebellion upturned…
Sing something,
beautiful, magical, upbeat, complete
voice and guitar, ringing the room
Je est un autre, je est un autre

Sourced from Chronicles: Volume One, Bob Dylan