A Simple Desultory Philippic
(How I Was Lyndon Johnsoned Into Submission)

Words & music bu Paul Simon 1965

     |G            |Bb       |
I was Union Jacked, Kerouac'd
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John Birched, stopped and searched
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Rolling Stoned and Beatled till I'm blind
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 I've been Ayn Randed, nearly branded
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Communist 'cos I'm lefthanded:
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That's the hand they use, well, never mind!
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I've been Walt Disneyed, Dis Disleyed
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John Lennoned, Krishna Menoned
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Walter Brennan punched out Cassius Clay
     |G                   |Bb         
 I've heard the truth from Lenny Bruce
   |C                  |Eb           |
and all my wealth won't buy me health
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 So I smoke a pint of tea a day
         |                |F
 I knew a man his brain so small, 
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He couldn't think of nothin' at all.
                    |C 
He's not the same as you and me.
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He doesn't dig poetry. He's so unhip that
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When you say Dylan, he thinks you're talkin' about Dylan Thomas,
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Whoever he is.
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The man ain't got no culture,
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But its alright, Ma,
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It's just sumpthin' I learned over in England.
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I've been James Joyced, Rolls Royced
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Mick Jaggered, silver daggered
G (320003@1)                  |A7         |D    |
Andy Warhol won't you please come home?
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I've been mother, fathered, aunt and uncled
C (x32010@1)              |Eb        |
Tom Wilsoned, Art Garfunkled
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Barry Kornfeld's mother's on the phone
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When in London, do as I do
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Find yourself a friendly haiku
G (320003@1)             |D             |G    |
 Go to sleep for ten or fifteen years