Bob Dylan - Days of '49 - Remastered lyrics

I'm ol' Tom Moore from the bummers' shore In the the good ol' golden days They call me a bummer and a ginsot too But what cares I for praise I wander round from town to town Just like a rovin' 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 often 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 oftimes 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's boy He was always gettin' tight And every time that he'd got booked He was spoiling for a fight That Jake rampaged against a knife In the hands of ol' Bob Stein An' over Jake they held a wake In the days of '49 In the days of old, in the days of gold How often 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 a game with d**h, Bill lost his breath In the days of '49 In the days of old, in the days of gold In the days times I repine In the days of old, in the days of gold Those were 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 roarin' yet One day he fell in a prospect hole In a roarin' 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 oftimes 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 ol' poor wanderin' ghost And I pa** by from town to town They call me the ramblin' sign There goes Tom Moore, a-bummer's shore In the days of '49 In the days of old, in the days of gold How often times I repine For the days of old when we dug up the gold In the days of '49 In the days of old when we dug up the gold How oftimes I repine For the days of old, in the days of gold In the days of '49