Bob Dylan

Who Killed Davey Moore

Bob Dylan

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Who Killed Davey Moore testo

Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an’ what’s the reason for?
&quotNot I,&quot says the referee,
&quotDon’t point your finger at me.
I could’ve stopped it in the eighth
An’ maybe kept him from his fate,
But the crowd would’ve booed, I’m sure,
At not gettin’ their money’s worth.
It’s too bad he had to go,
But there was a pressure on me too, you know.
It wasn’t me that made him fall.
No, you can’t blame me at all.&quot
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an’ what’s the reason for?
&quotNot us,&quot says the angry crowd,
Whose screams filled the arena loud.
&quotIt’s too bad he died that night
But we just like to see a fight.
We didn’t mean for him t’ meet his death,
We just meant to see some sweat,
There ain’t nothing wrong in that.
It wasn’t us that made him fall.
No, you can’t blame us at all.&quot
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an’ what’s the reason for?
&quotNot me,&quot says his manager,
Puffing on a big cigar.
&quotIt’s hard to say, it’s hard to tell,
I always thought that he was well.
It’s too bad for his wife an’ kids he’s dead,
But if he was sick, he should’ve said.
It wasn’t me that made him fall.
No, you can’t blame me at all.&quot
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an’ what’s the reason for?
&quotNot me,&quot says the gambling man,
With his ticket stub still in his hand.
&quotIt wasn’t me that knocked him down,
My hands never touched him none.
I didn’t commit no ugly sin,
Anyway, I put money on him to win.
It wasn’t me that made him fall.
No, you can’t blame me at all.&quot
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an’ what’s the reason for?
&quotNot me,&quot says the boxing writer,
Pounding print on his old typewriter,
Sayin’, &quotBoxing ain’t to blame,
There’s just as much danger in a football game.&quot
Sayin’, &quotFist fighting is here to stay,
It’s just the old American way.
It wasn’t me that made him fall.
No, you can’t blame me at all.&quot
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an’ what’s the reason for?
&quotNot me,&quot says the man whose fists
Laid him low in a cloud of mist,
Who came here from Cuba’s door
Where boxing ain’t allowed no more.
&quotI hit him, yes, it’s true,
But that’s what I am paid to do.
Don’t say ‘murder,’ don’t say ‘kill.’
It was destiny, it was God’s will.&quot
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an’ what’s the reason for?

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