Dylan, Dylan and A Simple Desultory Philippic

My last two years in high school I took an art class with Mr. Sebes at BRHS-West. The classroom had a kiln, art supplies of all kinds and a record player. For some reason (probably because they were the most assertive and everyone went along with it) there were a couple of girls who controlled what we listened to, much the same way that some people like to be in charge of the remote when families or friends watch television.

No one seemed to mind, though, because the records they selected to play were always Simon & Garfunkel. Parsley, Sage Rosemary and Thyme; Wednesday Morning, 3AM; Sounds of Silence; Bookends... Without effort we learned the words of nearly every album because I don't believe they ever played anything else.

One of the songs was a spoof on Bob Dylan called "A Simple Desultory Philippic (Or How I Was Robert McNamara'd into Submission)" which appeared on Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. The song is rather hilarious, especially the talking part in imitation of Dylan's delivery on songs like "I Shall Be Free No. 10."

In November, after reading Bob Dylan and Dylan Thomas: The Two Dylans by Jeff Towns and K.J. Miles, I felt a need to become more acquainted with the life and work of Dylan Thomas. To be honest, I only knew of him but had never read him. To do this I borrowed several books from our library and did a little devouring. One of the books, a massive volume, featured all of his poems. One was a book of literary criticism that included an overview of his life, another a book of essays by other critics, and the fourth a Christmas tale he wrote called A Child's Christmas. His most famous poem is probably "Do not go gentle into that good night."

Much of his poetry struck me as evocative even when you didn't fully grasp what its meanings, vivid imagery throughout. It wouldn't be too far a stretch to compare some of his writing to Finnegan's Wake, or a linguistic hybrid conjoining Jackson Pollock's paint splattering with Dali's hyper-schizophrenic scenes such Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War).

The Welsh poet won many accolades with some critics calling him the greatest living poet. Like other "rock stars" he seems to have lived a life of self-destruction, and indeed died during his 39th year on earth.

All the above flashed through my mind as i thought about the reference to Dylan Thomas in Paul Simon's parody of Dylan. Here are the lyrics, with the Dylan Thomas reference highlighted in bold. 

A Simple Desultory Philippic (Or How I Was Robert McNamara'd into Submission)

I been Norman Mailered, Maxwell Taylored
I been John O'Hara'd, McNamara'd
I been Rolling Stoned and Beatled 'til I'm blind
I been Ayn Randed, nearly branded
Communist, 'cause I'm left-handed
That's the hand I use, well, never mind

I been Phil Spectored, resurrected
I been Lou Adlered, Barry Sadlered
Well, I paid all the dues I want to pay
And I learned the truth from Lenny Bruce
And all my wealth won't buy me health
So I smoke a pint of tea a day

I knew a man, his brain was so small
He couldn't think of nothing at all
Not the same as you and me
He doesn't dig poetry
He's so unhip that when you say Dylan
He thinks you're talking about Dylan Thomas
Whoever he was
The man ain't got no culture
But it's alright, ma, everybody must get stoned

I been Mick Jaggered and silver daggered
Andy Warhol, won't you please come home?
I been mother, father, aunt and uncled
Been Roy Haleed and Art Garfunkeled
I just discovered somebody's tapped my phone

Folk rock
I've lost my harmonica, Albert

Songwriter: Paul Simon

A Simple Desultory Philippic (Or How I Was Robert McNamara’d Into Submission) lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

If you're unfamiliar with the tune, check it out here.

Now what's really hilarious is that when I Googled the lyrics for the song, a different version came up, whereupon I learned that Paul Simon originally recorded an England only version on his own before the Parslet, Sage version with Art G.

I was Union Jacked, Kerouac'd
John Birched, stopped and searched
Rolling Stoned and Beatled till I'm blind
I've been Ayn Randed, nearly branded
Communist 'cos I'm lefthanded:
That's the hand they use, well, never mind!

I've been Walt Disneyed, Dis Disleyed
John Lennoned, Krishna Menoned
Walter Brennan punched out Cassius Clay
I've heard the truth from Lenny Bruce
And all my wealth won't buy me health
So I smoke a pint of tea a day

I knew a man his brain so small
He couldn't think of nothin' at all
He's not the same as you and me
He doesn't dig poetry. He's so unhip that
When you say Dylan, he thinks you're talkin' about Dylan Thomas
Whoever he is
The man ain't got no culture
But its alright, Ma
It's just sumpthin' I learned over in England

I've been James Joyced, Rolls Royced
Mick Jaggered, silver daggered
Andy Warhol won't you please come home?
I've been mother, fathered, aunt and uncled
Tom Wilsoned, Art Garfunkled
Barry Kornfeld's mother's on the phone

When in London, do as I do
Find yourself a friendly haiku
Go to sleep for ten or fifteen years

* * * 

Was this version recorded somewhere? The references on both are hilarious. Fwiw, Tom Wilson was Bob Dylan's producer in the early sixties, as well as Simon & Garfunkel's. "It's alright, Ma" is a classic from Bringing It All Back Home. "It's just something I learned over in England" is a variant on I Shall Be Free No. 10