Тональность: C minor
Verse 1
Cm
I'm Old Tom Moore
Bb
from the bummer's shore
Cm
Bb
Cm
In the good old golden days
Bb
They call me a bum and a gin- soaked hoo
Cm
Bb
Cm
But what care I for praise
Eb
I've wandered around from
Eb
Cm
They call me the Ramblin' Sign
Ab
And all the people say,
Eb
"There goes Tom Moore
Cm
In the days of forty- nine."
Bb
My comrades they all loved me well
Cm
Bb
Cm
A jolly saucy crew
Bb
A few hard cases I will recall
Cm
Though they were all
Bb
Cm
brave and true
Eb
Whatever the pinch they
Cm
nev er would flinch
Eb
Cm
They never would fret or whine
Ab
Eb
And like good old bricks they took the kicks
Cm
In the days of forty- nine
Ab
Eb
In the days of old
When we dug up the gold
Ab
Eb
How oft'times I repine
Ab
In the days of old
Eb
When we dug up the gold
Cm
In the days of forty- nine
Bb
There was Big Bad Bob from Buffalo
Cm
Bb
Him I can't forget
Cm
He would roar all day and
Bb
he would roar all night
Cm
Bb
Cm
And I guess he's a- roarin' yet
Eb
Cm
One day he fell in a prospect hole
Eb
Cm
In a roarin' bad design
Ab
Eb
And in that hole he roared out his soul
Cm
In the days of forty- nine
Ab
In the days of old
Eb
When we dug up the gold
Ab
Eb
How oft'times I repine
Ab
Eb
In the days of old
When we dug up the gold
Cm
Bb
Cm
Bb
In the days of forty- nine
Cm
Bb
Eb
Cm
Eb
Cm
Now
Ab
Eb
Cm
Bb
Cm
Bb
Poker Bill was one of the boys
Cm
He was always in a game
Bb
Whether he won or whether he lost
Cm
Bb
Cm
To him it was all the same
Eb
Cm
He would ante up and draw his cards
Eb
Cm
And go a hundred dollars blind
Ab
Eb
In a game with death Bill lost his breath
Cm
In the days of forty- nine
There was New York Jake,
Bb
the butcher's boy
Cm
Bb
Cm
He was always gettin' tight
Bb
And every time that he got full
Cm
Bb
Cm
He was coilin' for a fight
Bb
Eb
Cm
And old Jake rampaged against the knife
Eb
Cm
In the hands of old Bob Sykes
Ab
Eb
And over Jake they held a wake
Cm
In the days of forty- nine
Ab
In the days of old
Eb
When we dug up the gold
Ab
How oft'times I repine
Eb
Ab
In the days of old
Eb
When we dug up the gold
Cm
Bb
Cm
Cm
In the days of forty- nine
Bb
My comrades now they've all gone
Cm
Bb
Cm
There's none that's left to boast
Bb
And I'm left alone in my misery
Cm
Bb
Cm
Like the son of a wan derin' ghost
Eb
I've wandered around from
Eb
Cm
They call me the Ramblin' Sign
Ab
And all the people say,
Eb
"There goes Tom Moore
Cm
In the days of forty- nine."
Ab
In the days of old
Eb
When we dug up the gold
Ab
Eb
How oft'times I repine
Ab
Eb
Cm
In the days of old
Bb
Cm
Bb
Ab
Eb
Ab
Eb
Bb
Ab
Eb
When we dug up the gold
Cm
Bb
Cm
In the days of forty- nine
Outro 1
Cm
Ab
Eb
Ab
Eb
Ab
Eb
Cm
Bb
Cm
Ab
Bb
Cm
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