Words and Music by Bob Dylan 1964 Warner Bros. Inc Renewed 1992 Special Rider Music
Gypsy gal, the hands of Harlem Cannot hold you to its heat. Your temperature's too hot for taming, Your flaming feet burn up the street. I am homeless, come and take me Into reach of your rattling drums. Let me know, babe, about my fortune Down along my restless palms. Gypsy gal, you got me swallowed. I have fallen far beneath Your pearly eyes, so fast an' slashing, An' your flashing diamond teeth. The night is pitch black, come an' make my Pale face fit into place, ah, please! Let me know, babe, I got to know, babe, If it's you my lifelines trace. I been wond'rin' all about me Ever since I seen you there. On the cliffs of your wildcat charms I'm riding, I know I'm 'round you but I don't know where. You have slayed me, you have made me, I got to laugh halfways off my heels. I got to know, babe, will I be touching you So I can tell if I'm really real.