The Days of Forty-Nine

The Days of Forty-Nine

We are gazing now on old Tom Moore
A relic of bygone days
Tis a bummer, too, they call me now
But what cares I for praise
It’s oft, says I, for the days gone by
It’s oft do I repine
For the days of old when we dug out the gold
In those days of Forty-Nine.

My comrades they all loved me well
The jolly, saucy crew
A few hard cases, I will admit
Thought they were brave and true
Whatever the pinch, they ne’er would flinch
They never would fret nor whine
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks
In the days of Forty-Nine.

There’s old “Aunt Jess” that hard old cuss
Who never would repent
He never missed a single meal
Nor never paid a cent
But old “Aunt Jess” like all the rest
At death he did resign
And in his bloom went up in flume
In the days of Forty-Nine.

There is Ragshag Jim, the roaring man
Who could out-roar a buffalo, you bet
He roared all day and he roared all night
And I guess he is roaring yet
One night Jim fell in a prospect hole
It was a roaring bad design
And in that hole Jim roared out his soul
In the days of Forty-Nine.

There is Wylie Bill, the funny man
Who was full of funny tricks
And when he was in a poker game
He was always hard as bricks
He would ante you a stud, he would play you a draw
He’d go you a hatful blind
In a struggle with death Bill lost his breath
In the days of Forty-Nine.

There was New York Jake, the butcher boy
Who was fond of getting tight
And every time he got on a spree
He was spoiling for a fight
One night Jake rampaged against a knife
In the hands of old Bob Sine
And over Jake they held a wake
In the days of Forty-Nine.

There was Monte Pete, I’ll ne’er forget
The luck he always had
He would deal for you both day and night
Or as long as he had a scad
It was a pistol shot that lay Pete out
It was his last resign
And it caught Pete dead sure in the door
In the days of Forty-Nine.

Of all the comrades that I’ve had
There’s none that’s left to boast
And I am left alone in my misery
Like some poor wandering ghost
And as I pass from town to town
They call me the rambling sign
Since the days of old and the days of gold
And the days of Forty-Nine.