Days of 49 lyrics

Artist  : Bob dylan 
Song : Days of 49
 
I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore in that
good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what
cares I for praise ?
I wander around from town to town just like a
roving sign
And all the people say, "There goes Tom Moore, in
the days of '49"
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy
crew
A few hard cases I will recall though they all
were brave and true
Whatever the pitch they never would flinch, they
never would fret or whine
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the
days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

There was New York Jake, the butcher boy, he was
always getting tight
And every time that he'd get full he was spoiling
for a fight
But Jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of
old Bob Stein
And over Jake they held a wake in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

There was Poker Bill, one of the boys who was
always in a game
Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was
always the same
He would ante up and draw his cards and he would
you go a hatful blind
In the game with death Bill lost his breath, in
the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

There was Ragshag 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 day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring
bad design
And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the
days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

Of the comrades all that I've had, there's none
that's left to boast 
And I'm left alone in my misery like some poor
wandering ghost
And I pass by from town to town, they call me a
rambling sign
"There goes Tom Moore, a bummer shore in the days
of '49 "
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.