Do You Sing any Dylan?Eric BogleAttheageofnineteenI was young,I was keenand I had just oneburningambitionTobe a folk-singer,a dope-smokin’swinger,playin’ songsthatweresteepedin traditionSoI boughta guitarand I practiced realhard I wasn’t muchgoodbutI was willin’‘Till to my chagrin my girlfriend came in and she said “Canyousing any Dylan?”I’d say “No!No!a thousandtimes no,I’d ratherseemy life bloodspillin’I’ll sing anythingeven“GodSave theKing,”butI just won’tsing any Bob Dylan.”Withmy guitarI travelled realfartryingtogain recognitionI sang “TheWildRover”fromDundeetoDover,in pubs, clubs and in Seaman’s MissionsI travelled theroadforseven longyears,thepace it reallywas killin’ButeverywhereI wentfromGwydia toGwent,theywould say “Canyousing any Dylan?”I struggledonbutthemagic was gone,I onlyhad a deepsense offailureI thoughthenI’d blow towhereall failures go,soI boardeda ship forAustraliaWhenI landed in Sydney thesunit showndownona view thatwas lovely and thrillin’Tillspottingmy guitarcase witha smile onhis face,Customssaid “Canyousing any Dylan?”Andeversince thenagain and again I’ve beenasked thesame bloody questionAndI usually replyin my ownquiet way witha totally indecentsuggestion!Butthelast strawcameonenightata local motelwhereI had a younggirl whowas willin’Asshetookoffherdress,shesaid “I’ll say yes, if onlyyou’ll sing someBob Dylan!”I tell youmy friendsthatwas theendofall my traditional aspirationsIf beinga folkiewas goin’tocutoffmy nookie,therewas oneway toendmy frustrationsThenextnightI appearedatmy local folkclub, wheretheaudienceas usual was millin’UntilI tookoffmy coatand I rupturedmy throatand I sang – just like Bob Dylan!Welltheaudiencewentwild, menwomanand child, and theyclapped ‘till theirrawhands werebleedin’Andsaid, sotospeak, thatmy style was unique,and just whattheAustralianFolkscene was needin’Soall youyoungfolkies whobash outa chord,if youwanttoattain thetopbillin’Justmurdergoodprose,and sing throughyournose,and thenyou’ll soundjust like Bob Dylan!