Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary,
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See my baby there;
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She's stretched out on a long, white table,
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She's so sweet, so cold, so fair.
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Let her go, let her go, God bless her,
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Wherever she may be,
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She will search this wide world over,
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But she'll never find another sweet man like me.
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Now, when I die, bury me in my straight-leg britches,
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Put on a box-back coat and a stetson hat,
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Put a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain,
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So you can let all the boys know I died standing pat.
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An' give me six crap shooting pall bearers,
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Let a chorus girl sing me a song.
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Put a red hot jazz band at the top of my head
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So we can raise Hallelujah as we go along.
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Folks, now that you have heard my story,
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Say, boy, hand me over another shot of that booze;
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If anyone should ask you,
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Tell 'em I've got those St. James Infirmary blues.
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St. James Infirmary
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| Cab Calloway |
