St james infirmary  Misc Traditional

##of the song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or   ###font. See http://www.olga.net/faq/ for more information.                     ##Date: Thu, 6 Sep 2001 15:32:38 -0400#Subject: m/misc_traditional/st_james_infirmary.crd#St. James Infirmary#


I went [Dm]down to [A7]St. James In[Dm]firmary.


I saw my S[Gm]weeheart [A7]there.


[Dm]Lying [A7]on a [Dm]table,


So cold, so [A7]white, so [Dm]fair.


I went up to [A7]see the [Dm]doctor.


``She's very l[Gm]ow'' he [A7]said.


I [Dm]went back to [A7]see my [Dm]baby


And great God she was [A7]lying there d[Dm]ead


I went down to old Joe's bar room.


Down on the corner by the square.


They were serving drinks as usual


And the usual crowd was there.


On my left stood Joe MacKennedy.


His eyes were bloodshot red.


He turned to the crowd around him


And these were the words he said.


Let her go. Let her go, God bless her.


Where ever she may be.


She may search this wide world over


But she'll never find another man like me.


When I die please bury me


In a high top stetson hat.


Put a gold piece on my watch chain,


So the boys will know I died standing pat.


Get six gambelers to carry my coffin.


Six chorus girls to sing my song.


Put a jazz band on my tail gate


To raise hell as we roll along.


This is the end of my story


So let's have another round of booze.


And if anyone should ask you just tell them


I've got the St. James Infirmary blues.


[A7]Dm      [--2223]--0231


[Gm7]        [--3333]       Cheers,


Robert.


Robert P. O'Shea


Center for Cognitive Neuroscience, Dartmouth College, Hanover,


NH 03784, USA; phone: +1 (603) 646 0042; fax: +1 (603) 646 1181.