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I'mAm old Tom Moore from theG bummer's shore
In the Amgood old Ggolden Amdays.
They call me a bummer and a Ggin sot, too
But Amwhat cares GI for Ampraise
I Cwander around from Amtown to town
C Just like a roving Amsign,
and Call the people all say "There Amgoes Tom Moore
in the Gdays of '4Am9.
In the Fdays of old, in the Cdays of gold
How Foftentimes I reCpine
For the Fdays of old when we Cdug up the gold
In the Amdays 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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