Happy Birthday Mr. Dylan

Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Or can we call you Bob?
No, your radio's not broken
Don't you fiddle with that knob
Though the times, they kept on changing
And it feels like we been robbed
Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Merry Christmas to you, Bob

Well, we want to thank you rightly for the chances that you take
So we're baking you a leopard skin pillbox birthday cake
You're invited down to Maggie's farm, we hope that you'll fall by
For some four-letter words, a bottle of bread, and some good old country pie

Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Or can we call you Bob?
No, your radio's not broken
Don't you fiddle with that knob
Though the times, they kept on changing
And it feels like we been robbed
Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Mеrry Christmas to you, Bob

Greetings from Frankie Lee and Judas Priest, John Weslеy Harding too
St. Augustine and Hurricane, Queen Jane and Baby Blue
Ramona, Quinn the Eskimo, Tom Thumb and Mister Jones
You know the more the years roll by, the more I feel like a Rolling Stone

Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Or can we call you Bob?
No, your radio's not broken
Don't you fiddle with that knob
Though the times, they kept on changing
And it feels like we been robbed
Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Merry Christmas to you, Bob

Well, it's been one too many mornings since that easy chair did fly
The times, they haven't changed enough, and God's still choosing sides
But all it takes is a simple twist of fate to be released
I'm still waiting for that lucky day when we paint our masterpiece

Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Or can we call you Bob?
No, your radio's not broken
Don't you fiddle with that knob
Though the times, they kept on changing
And it feels like we been robbed
Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Merry Christmas to you, Bob
Happy birthday, Mr. Dylan
Merry Christmas to you, Bob