Played by Bob Dylan on Self Portrait (1970)
Tabbed by Eyolf Østrem
The lyrics differ quite substantially from the official lyrics. Thanks to UltimoDraq for the actual sung lyrics.
Am G I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore Am G Am In the good old golden days. G They call me a bummer and a gin sot, too Am G Am But what cares I for praise C Am I wander around from town to town C Am Just like a roving sign, C Am And all the people all say "There goes Tom Moore G Am in the days of '49. F C In the days of old, in the days of gold F C How oftentimes I repine F C For the days of old when we dug up the gold Am In the days of '49. Our comrades they all loved me well Jolly saucy crew A few hard cases I will recall Though they all were brave and true Whatever the pick, they never would flinch They never would fret or whine F C Like good old bricks,they stood the kicks [n.c.] Am In the Days of 49 There was New York Jake, the butcher's boy He was always getting tight And every time that he'd get full he was sporting for a fight Then Jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old Bob Sign And over Jake they held a wake in the days of 49. Am G There was Poker Bill, one of the boys Am G Who was always in a game Am G Whether he lost or whether he won Am G Am To him it was always the same He would ante up and draw his cards And would go a hatfull blind In a game with death Bill lost his breath in the days of 49 <span class="spoken">[oh my goodness!]</span> 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 Oh the comrades all that I've had There's none thats left to boast And I'm left alone in my misery Like some old poor wandering ghost And I pass by from town to town They call me the ramblin' sign There goes Tom Moore of bummer's shore In the days of 49
Additional verse, not sung by Dylan:
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.