Man Of Constant Sorrow

I am a man of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my days
I'll say goodbye to Colorado
Where I was born and partly raised

Through this open world I'm a-bound to ramble
Through ice and snow, sleet and rain
Im a-bound to ride that mornin' railroad
Perhaps I'll die upon that train

Your mother says that I'm a stranger
A face you'll never see no more
But here's one promise to ya
I'll see you on God's golden shore

I'm a-goin' back to Colorado
The place that I've started from
If I'd knowed how bad you'd treat me
Babe, I never would have come

by Bob Dylan

Comments (7)

Yes! You are right. Poets do need imagination. You certainly showed you definately have it in this poem! Interesting to read and good questions pointed out. A very creative piece of art. :) DC
That was ****ing brilliant, how the ***k did you think of that. Thanks for the good read and ****ing escapism. Steve
Thanks for cleansing the cobwebs from my f***ing mind, , , and allowing me some insight into what the f**k...this f***ing word really means. Forever, f***ingly grateful, JBE!
I like this... But I also Like Bukowski..... Its about context I suppose... Poetry... Sometimes a reflection of real life? Great write! Roger.
I'm not sure if you were trying to capture this. But by overusing 'the word' you effectively render it meaningless and reduce its power. From reading the poem I do think you did that deliberately. The frequency of its usage in society does beg the question 'Why are we still shocked by it? '. Good job.
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