the good old golden days.
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too,
but what cares I for praise?
I've rambled round all over town,
My comrades they all loved me well,
A few hard cases I will admit,
but they were brave and true.
they ne 'er would flinch,
they never would fretner whine.
He never missed a single meal
But old Aunt Jess, like all the rest,
who was fond of getting tight.
And every time he got on a spree,
he was spoiling for a fight.
One night, Jake jumped against a knife
in the hands of old Doc Sign,
and over Jake we held awake
Of all the comrades that I've
there's none that's left to boast
an d I'm alone in my misery
like some poor wan dering ghost
an d as I pass from town to town
They call me the rambling sign