Dusty Old Fairgrounds Bob Dylan

By Bob Dylan

Well, it's all up from Florida at the start of the spring
The trucks and the trailers will be winding
Like a bullet we'll shoot for the carnival route
We're following them dusty old fairgrounds a-calling

From the Michigan mud past the Wisconsin sun
'Cross that Minnesota border, keep 'em scrambling
Through the clear county lakes and the lumberjack lands
We're following them dusty old fairgrounds a-calling

Hit Fargo on the jump and down to Aberdeen
'Cross them old Black Hills, keep 'em rolling
Through the cow country towns and the sands of old Montana
We're following them fairgrounds a-calling

As the white line on the highway sails under your wheels
I've gazed from the trailer window laughing
Oh, our clothes they was torn but the colors they was bright
Following them dusty old fairgrounds a-calling

It's a-many a friend that follows the bend
The jugglers, the hustlers, the gamblers
Well, I've spent my time with the fortune-telling kind
Following them fairgrounds a-calling