TIME RAG 
(Words and Music by Joan Baez) 


Ripping along towards middle age 
And my music career kind of missed a page 
Record sales began to drop 
The management all began to hop 
Not worry, they said, you'll see 
What you need is some fresh publicity 
Just give us a nod and we'll all leap 
Towards putting you back at the top of the heap 
I said, Fine, I'll give it a whack 
I hung up the phone and I turned my back 
Began daydreaming I was somebody else 
When the phone jumped over from the wall to the shelf 
We just had a break, this is really fine 
We can make the January issue of TIME 
If you'll give us Monday, a week from today 
From two to four, now what do you say? 

I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag 
You got me on the rag, rag 
Take your insults about the queen 
And shove them up your royal Timese machine 

But I scribbled it down on the wall calendar 
And wondered about my interviewer 
Maybe he'd be just a real nice guy 
Bright and sympathetic with a roving eye 
We'd forget all about the assignment due 
Formalities, photos, and the interview 
We'd hop on into his big rent-a-car 
Go for a lovely drive, not far....maybe France 
As the big day approached it slipped my mind 
Till my secretary showed up at the house to remind 
Me to switch into gear for the big coup de gras 
The meeting with the man from the media 
I swept the driveway and polished the phone 
Put on a Kenzo knit in two-tone 
Fluffed the pillows in the burgundy chair 
Made up my eyes and brushed my hair...all in that order 
When he called to say he was three hours late 
My cheerful facade began to disintegrate 
The photographer'd be even later still 
She was hopelessly lost in the nearby hills 
He arrived not exactly the man of my dreams 
Not bad for a rep from the Timese machine 
Asked me a wandering question or three 
And I thought he was actually listening to me 

And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag 
You got me on the rag, rag 
Take your insults about the queen 
And shove them up your royal Timese machine 

Curious about his interest 
I babbled my way through the worldwide list 
Ireland, Chile and the African states 
Poetry, politics and how they relate 
Motherhood, music and Moog synthesizers 
Political prisoners and Commie sympathizers 
Hetero, homo and bisexuality 
Where they all stand in the nineteen-seventies 
Then suddenly it stopped and he started to lobby 
Said, Tell me some inside stuff about Bobby 
Bobby who? I smiled and said 
And the TIME man's face was laced with red 
I know you guys used to know each other 
I know you refer to him as being your brother 
And I know that you know where he's coming from 
I said, You know alot for being so Goddamned dumb 

And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag 
You got me on the rag, rag 
Take your insults about the queen 
And shove them up your royal Timese machine 

Well I never gave him quite what he came for 
The inside story and it's really a shame 
For I never made the January issue of TIME 
And just before I run out of words that rhyme 
I really should tell you that deep in my heart 
I don't give a damn where I stand on the charts 
Not as long as the sun sinks into the west 
And that's going to be a pretty serious test.....of time