Peggy Day

When a piece of art is large and glorious – for example, It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding) or Moby Dick – it’s easy to overlook major weaknesses. Maybe a song has some weak lines. Maybe the book rambles on incessantly about the history of whaling. But the greatness overcomes the shaky bits.

But when the work is light-weight, then every little piece had better be precisely executed, otherwise, the entire thing will collapse like an over-shaken souffle. Peggy Day is a collapsed souffle.

It’s full of annoyingly poetry 101 rhymes and lines, such as.

 Peggy Day stole my poor heart away,
By golly, what more can I say,
Love to spend the night with Peggy Day.

By golly, he should have reserved this drek for Self Portrait.

Wilfrid Mellers¬†(author of A Darker Shade of Pale) liked it though, so that’s something.

Peggy Day puns delightedly on day and night in a boogie number in which again blue notes and metrical dislocations become sheer ebullience.

Ok.

Dylan uses a bridge in the third verse, perhaps to emphasize that she’s his “little lady“. Please make it stop.

It’s never been played live. Good.

Cover Versions

I like the song better sans lyrics.

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