The Bride and the Return of Tarantula

by Larry Fyffe

The Bride of Tarantula

Humour comes in handy-dandy when waiting around all day for the Messiah to come, but, like Godot, doesn’t show up:

How long can I stay drunk on fear out in the wilderness
Can I cast aside all this loyalty and this pride
Will I ever learn that there'll be no peace
That the war won't cease
Until He returns
(Bob Dylan: When He Returns)

Could be construed that in the following song lyrics, His Bride, that is, the followers of Christ, are impatient, if not downright dubious, about His promised return:

Well, if I come back
She said, we'll meet down by the station ...
Our days are bound to go
(Bob Dylan: Down By The Station)

Appears that if He doesn’t return soon, Satan’s standing by with a coat-full of apples:

It ain't easy to swallow, it sticks in your throat
She gave her heart to the man in the long black coat
(Bob Dylan: The Man In The Long Black Coat)

In Greek/Roman mythology, human mortals be barred from Mount Olympus; immortals like Zeus, his son Apollo, and Venus, are the only ones allowed upstairs – plus those who are considered worthy demigods like the violent-prone, though often jolly, wine-drinking dancing-fool known as Dionysus.

Could be a Dionysian archetype who makes the joke below:

(H)e tells me that Shakespeare's relatives killed his ancestors
& that now his brothers won't read Shakespeare
(Bob Dylan: Tarantula)

Rockabilly, another matter:

Give me one hand loose, and I'll be satisfied
Give me a free hand baby 'cause I wanna rock
Turn me loose, and maybe I will blow my top
(Charlie Feathers: One Hand Loose ~ Huffman/Chastain/Feathers)

The lyrics above burlesqued in the Leda-and-the-swan song below:

Saddle me up a big white goose
Tie me on'er,  and turn her loose
Oh, me, oh my
Love that country pie
(Bob Dylan: Country Pie)

With a scat of Lord Buckley’s satirical bells ringing all over:

In the jingle-jangle morning, I'll come following you ....
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
(Bob Dylan: Mr. Tambourine Man)

The Return Of The Tarantula

Spiderman has nothing on Tarantula (papa ‘Honest Abe” created his own version of the Cosmos wherein the Afterlife is of little concern).

Hairy Tarantula is like the Raven of North American lore ~  a trickster and a jokester who will do almost anything to obtain a few slices of bread, and a bottle of heavenly whiskey.

Including teaching American history to school children:

(W)ho can tell me the name of the
third president of the United States -
a girl with her back full of ink
raises her hand & says "Ernest Tubb"
(Bob Dylan: Tarantula)

Apparently, the honest electric honky-tonker, endeavours with all his might to hold the Union together:

I'm walking the floor over you
I can't sleep a wink that is true
I'm hoping and I'm praying as my heart breaks in two
Walking the floor over you
(Ernest Tubb: Walking The Floor Over You)

In the lyrics below, however, the Tarantula, a stranger in a strange land, burlesques the sorrowful sentiment that’s expressed above:

Set'em up Joe, play "Walking The Floor"
Play it for my flat-chested junkie whore
I'm staying up late, and I'm making amends
While the smile of heaven descends
(Bob Dylan: Scarlet Town)

That earnest willingness to wait for divine intervention expressed in the song lyrics beneath:

I'm gonna spend the night like every night before
Playing ET, and I'm gonna play him some more
I got to have a shot of them Troubadours
Set'em up Joe, play "Walking The Floor"
(Vern Gosdin: Set'em Up Joe ~ Gosdin, et al)

To be Frank, according to the Tarantula, ET’s just getting too many accolades all over:

It's a quarter to three
There's no one in the place
Except you and me
So set'em up Joe
I got a little story you ought to know
(Johnny Mercer: One For My Baby ~ Mercer/Arlen)

Ready, Freddie – again it’s parody time in the following song lyrics wherein more than the artist’s inkwell is drying up.

Albeit with ambiguous lyrics akin to the gnostic-like “Down By The Station”, it seems the departure of a mere lover be damned; more important is that the supposedly soon-to-come Second Coming of Christ is stretching farther and farther out into the future:

One for my baby
One for the road
This bottle is dried up soon
And I'll be all cried up soon
I can't see no God up soon
It's a long way to go
(Bob Dylan: One For The Road)

A masterpiece of burlesque.

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