Bob Dylan – Days Of 49 (Guitar)

Am                         G                     Am       G      Am
I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore in the good old golden days 

Am                          G               Am         G      Am
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise?

  C                  Am                C             Am
I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign

    C                          Am                     G           Am
And all the people say, "There goes Tom Moore, in the days of '49"

       F                   C
In the days of old, in the days of gold

    F             C            F
How oft'times I repine for the days of old

        C                       Am
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

Am                   G                Am    G     Am
My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy crew

Am                 G                  Am            G         Am
A few hard cases I will recall though they all were brave and true

    C                   Am                       C                   Am
Whatever the pinch they never would flinch, they never would fret or whine

     C                    Am                     G           Am
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the days of '49

       F                   C
In the days of old, in the days of gold

    F             C            F
How oft'times I repine for the days of old

        C                       Am
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

Am                           G                     Am     G       Am
There was New York Jake, the butcher's boy, he was always getting tight

Am                       G               Am       G     Am
And every time that he'd get full he was spoiling for a fight

    C              Am                    C                Am
But Jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old Bob Stein

    C              Am                 G          Am
And over Jake they held a wake in the days of '49

       F                   C
In the days of old, in the days of gold

    F             C            F
How oft'times I repine for the days of old

        C                       Am
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

Am                    G                       Am     G    Am
There was Poker Bill, one of the boys who was always in a game

Am                 G                  Am         G          Am
Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was always the same

         C           Am                    C                      Am
He would ante up and draw his cards and he would you go a hatfull blind

       C                    Am                      G          Am
In the game with death Bill lost his breath, in the days of '49    'oh my goodness'

       F                   C
In the days of old, in the days of gold

       F             C           F
In the day'times I repine in the days of old

       C                         Am
In the days of gold, those where days of '49.

Am                          G          Am    G    Am
There was Ragshag Bill from Buffalo, I never will forget

Am                             G                    Am         G       Am
He would roar all day and he'd roar all night and I guess he's roaring yet

    C                Am                  C             Am
One day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring bad design

    C               Am                          G          Am
And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the days of '49

       F                   C
In the days of old, in the days of gold

    F             C            F
How oft'times I repine for the days of old

        C                       Am
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

Am                  G                      Am          G       Am
Of the comrades all that I've had, there's none that's left to boast

Am                       G           Am        G         Am
And I'm left alone in my misery like some poor wandering ghost

      C            Am                 C                    Am
And I pass by from town to town, they call me the rambling sign

       C                 Am                  G          Am
"There goes Tom Moore, a bummer shore in the days of '49 "

       F                   C
In the days of old, in the days of gold

    F             C            F
How oft'times I repine for the days of old

        C                       Am
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49.

        F                   C
And the days of old when we dug up the gold

    F             C           F
How oft'times I repine In the days of old

       C                   Am
In the days of gold in the days of '49.  wooh!