AmG GI'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore Am AmG GAm AmIn the good old golden days. G GThey call me a bummer and a gin sot, too Am AmG GAm AmBut what cares I for praise C CAm AmI wander around from town to town C CAm AmJust like a roving sign, C CAm AmAnd all the people all say "There goes Tom Moore G GAm Amin the days of '49. F FC CIn the days of old, in the days of gold F FC CHow oftentimes I repine F FC CFor the days of old when we dug up the gold Am AmIn the days of '49. There was Nantuck B Bill, I knew him well, A Afeller that was fond of tricks. At a poker game he was always there And heavy with his bricks. He would ante up and draw his cards And go in a hatfull blind In a game of bluff, B Bill lost his breath In the days of '49. There was New York Jake, a butcher boy He was always getting tight. And every time that he got full He was always hunting a fight. One night he run up against a knife In the hands of old B Bob Kline And over Jake they held a wake In the days of '49. There was poor old Jess, the old lame cuss He never would relent. Her never was known to miss a drink Or ever spend a cent. At length old Jess like all the rest Who never would decline, In all his bloom went up the flume In the days of '49. There was roaring B Bill from B Buffalo I never will forget. He would roar all day and he'd roar all night And I guess he's roaring yet. One night he fell in a prospector's hole In a roaring bad design, In in that hole roared out his soul In the days of '49
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