I’ve been a heathen and a Christian, but to Don I’m still a Jew.
Boys and gals that follow him, to yourself you must be true.
I’m not a man who's won today, I’m a spirit that’s come to you.
Woody won this prize with me. And Pete Seeger too.
I take this for tradition, for the blood that's flowing through
For the banjo men and the violins, that played from shore to shore
For the war drums and the pipes of peace, that tugged our hearts of yore
I take this for America, from the sea to the rolling sea
For the pavements and the basements, and the good old hangin’ tree
For the sad-eyed lady and the young slim shady
For the two gun Billy and the boy that’s just silly
For the steam shovel mama and the dump truck baby
For the man of jazz with the razzmatazz
For Vietnam and desert sands
For the joy boys and the boy toys
For the men we could not trust,
And the girls whose hearts are true
For the underground tramps and the Chinese lamps
And the old man in the wheelchair in Apartment 22
I come to you from the Blue Bayou and Highway Fifty One
I come to you in the name of the Lord
And the men who used to work for Mister Ford
From skinny little Jimmy and his little pica ninny, going wild trying to hide that gun
I thank you well for honoring me, I thank you deep and true
I’ll drink to you and sing your names, and buy myself some pearls
All thanks to you, dear Sweden too, especially for the girls.
I’m not a smiling man, though I do what I can, but I think I’ll do a jig or two
I’m going to hoe down shimmy round do the funky chicken
Tap away my old man blues
The voice in my head says you better be in bed,
But I know that I’m not quite through
Throw away the stick, shine the trophy with some spit
Then I’m writing something new