Tom: D major
Verse 1
D
Em
D
I'm old -time more of the bummer, sure,
E
Em
in the good old golden days
B
Em
They call me a bummer and
but what do I care for praise?
Em
D
I wander around from town to town
Em
just like a ram blin' sign
D
E
D
The people all say there goes time
Em
D
more of the days of forty -nine
Em
D
My comrades, they all love me well,
Em
there's a jolly saucy crew
D
E
Em
A few hard cases I will admit,
D
but they was brave and true
Whatever the pinch,
Em
D
they never would flinch,
Em
E
and they never would have fret or whine
D
Em
Like good old bricks,
Em
E
in the days of 49
Em
There's old lame Jess,
he's a hard -on cuss,
F#
Em
and he never did repent
D
Em
He never was known to miss a drink
F#
just like all the rest of death,
E
Em
he didn't resign
D
Em
D
And in his bloom, he went up to flume
A poker bill of one of the boys,
he was always in for a game
D
Em
But whether he won or whether he lost,
D
to him it was all the same
F#
D
Em
He'd ante up and he'd
Em
he'd go you a hatful blind
D
Em
In a game of death, Bill lost his breath
A
Em
in the days of forty -nine
D
In the days of old, in the days of gold,
Em
how oft times I repined
D
Em
For the days of old when we
Em
in the days of forty -nine
Em
D
Jake the butcher's boy,
Em
he was always getting tight
D
And every time that he'd get full,
Em
he was looking for a fight
D
Em
An d Jake rampaged against the knife
D
Em
in the hand of an old Bob Siney
D
Yes, and over Jake we held a wick
A
Em
D
A
in the days of 49
Rack Shack
B
Em
I never will forget
D
Em
He'd roar all day, he'd roar all night
F#
Bm
I guess he's roaring yet
D
Em
One night he fell in a prospect hole
in a roaring bat design
D
Em
And in that hole, he roared out his soul
in the days of 49
Of all the comrades that I've had,
now there's none that's left to boast
D
Em
I'm left alone in my misery,
D
like some poor wandering ghost
Em
E
Em
F#m
And as I pass from town to town,
Em
they call me to ramblin' sign
D
Em
There goes Tom Moore,
that bummer, sure,
of the days of 49
In the days of old,
in the days of gold,
How oft times I repined,
D
Em
For the days of old,
when we dug up to gold,
In the days of forty -nine, oh yeah.
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AcordesD Em E B F#...
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