| Well folks, I’m goin' down to St. James Infirmary |
| See my little baby there |
| She’s stretched out on a long, white table |
| Well she looks so good, so cold, so fair |
| Let her go, let her go, God bless her |
| Wherever she may be |
| You may search this whole wide world over |
| But she’ll never find another sweetheart like me, yeah |
| Take apart your bones and put 'em back together |
| Tell your mother that you are somebody new |
| Feel the breeze blow and tell 'em all, «Look out here it comes!» |
| Now I can say whatever I feel like to you |
| Then keep me six crap-shooting pallbearers |
| Let a chorus girl sing me a song |
| Put a red-hot jazz band, we raise |
| Hallelujah as we go along, well |
| Well folks, now that you have heard my story |
| Say boy, hand me another shot of that rye |
| And if anyone else should ask you |
| Just tell 'em I’ve got some of those St. James Infirmary blues |
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