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LAm SOL
I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore
LAm SOL LAm
In the good old golden days.
SOL
They call me a bummer and a gin sot, too
LAm SOL LAm
But what cares I for praise
DO LAm
I wander around from town to town
DO LAm
Just like a roving sign,
DO LAm
And all the people all say "There goes Tom Moore
SOL LAm
in the days of '49.
FA DO
In the days of old, in the days of gold
FA DO
How oftentimes I repine
FA DO
For the days of old when we dug up the gold
LAm
In the days of '49.
There was Nantuck Bill, I knew him well,
A feller 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, 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 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 Bill from 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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