WHEN DYLAN WENT ELECTRIC

He opens up the trapdoor, knowing whence and whither he goes
Half the journey was joyful, half the crowd he froze 
 “Fuck them if they think they can keep electric out”
Zimmerman ordered up his Stratocaster to the roadies with a shout

In 65 at Newport, he rose to play the crowd
The applause was deafening, lights were dime, the audience was loud
Every fan was waiting for their Freewheeling diatonic champ
But Zimmerman told the sound man, crank up the Marshall amps

The euphony hit a discord, as he slammed the D'Addario strings 
But they came to hear the echoes, of their acoustic folklore king
Instead the sound came out clanking, wired a with metal thrum   
Zimmerman continued to bang out the chords, the guitar was a strum

He vocalized “It’s a shame they make me scrub the floor”
Then he belched “I ain’t gonna work on Maggies Farm no more”
As Bloomfield and Kooper hammered out notes fast and undiluted
Zimmerman had half the crowd electrified, the rest he electrocuted

Three more songs, set was done, waved to the smiling fifty percent
A casual walk, then a middle finger, he waved to those not content
The stagehand push a button, the threshold now open wide
Zimmerman walked through the trapdoor, and Like a Rolling Stone, 
     took it all in stride