While my old health is sagging
and all those years do pile
I'm at my old retreat a'lagging,
scrutinizing each last while

recording my old day books
starting at age fourteen,
that's the way it looks;
old man researching young teen

as Bob Dylan reaches for eighty
I study Clinton Heylin's mighty monograph,
a book most detailed and weighty,
hearing Gaslight Tapes on a latter-day phonograph

Well, Dylan is well past his last,
and I'm following behind,
diving into my diaries' past,
hitting on more than I thought I'd find