Folks, I'm going down to St. James Infirmary

See my baby there

She's stretched out on a long white table

So sweet, so cold, so fair

Let her go, let her go, God bless her

Wherever she may be

She can search this whole wide world over

But she'll never find another sweet man like me

When I die, then you must trade leg britches

Put on a box-back coat and a Stetson hat

Put a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So you can let all the boys know I died standing pat

Then give me six crap-shooting pallbearers

Let a chorus girl sing me a song

Put a red-hot jazz band at the top of my head

So we can raise hallelujah as we go along

Folks, now that you have heard my story

Say, boy, pass me over another shot of that booze!

If anyone should ask you, you just tell 'em

I've got those St. James Infirmary blues