Days of 49
Bob Dylan Lyrics


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Days Of 49
~~~~~~~~~~

Im old tom moore from the bummers shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise ?
I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign
And all the people say, there goes tom moore, in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.

My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy crew
A few hard cases I will recall though they all were brave and true
Whatever the pitch they never would flinch, they never would fret or whine
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.

There was new york jake, the butcher boy, he was always getting tight
And every time that hed get full he was spoiling for a fight
Then jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old bob stein
And over jake they held a wake in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.

There was poker bill, one of the boys who was always in a game
Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was always the same
He would ante up and draw his cards and he would you go a hatful blind
In the game with death bill lost his breath, in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
In the day of times I repine
In the days of old, in the days of gold
Those were days of 49.

There was ragshag bill from buffalo, I never will forget
He would roar all day and hed roar all night and I guess hes roaring yet
One day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring bad design
And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.

Of the comrades all that Ive had, theres none thats left to boast
And Im left alone in my misery like some poor wandering ghost
And I pass by from town to town, they call me a rambling sign
There goes tom moore, a bummer shore in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.
In the days of old, in the days of gold




How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.

Overall Meaning

The song "Days of 49" by Bob Dylan paints a vivid picture of the California Gold Rush, which began in 1849. It tells the story of Tom Moore, a wanderer who traveled from town to town during this period. He was known as a bum and a ginsot, but he didn't care about other people's opinions of him. In the chorus, the lyrics talk about how much Tom Moore misses the days when he and his comrades dug up gold, which is a longing for a time that is now gone.


Throughout the song, the lyrics mention several of Tom Moore's friends, including New York Jake and Poker Bill. New York Jake was a butcher boy who was always looking for a fight. Unfortunately, he got into a fight with Bob Stein, who had a knife, and Jake lost his life. Poker Bill was always participating in a game of poker, and he was a risk-taker. He eventually lost his life playing that game in the presence of Death.


The song's melody is slow and melancholic, amplifying the sense of longing and nostalgia that Tom Moore feels. Bob Dylan's lyrics provide a captivating description of the people who risked everything to find gold and the conditions they had to endure. It's a remarkable ode to the wild, rebellious spirit of the time, and the courage of those who dared to leave everything behind to find fortune in California.


Line by Line Meaning

Im old tom moore from the bummers shore in that good old golden days
I am Tom Moore, an old man from the shore of Bummer's. These days were golden, and I loved them.


They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise ?
People call me a bummer and a ginsot, but I don't care about such labelling and praise.


I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign
I move from one town to another with no real purpose, like a sign that keeps moving.


And all the people say, there goes tom moore, in the days of 49
People recognize me and say, 'There goes Tom Moore,' linking me to the famous time of '49.


My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy crew
My companions loved me very much, they were a jolly and entertaining crowd.


A few hard cases I will recall though they all were brave and true
I remember a few hard-cases, who were brave and honest, among my companions.


Whatever the pitch they never would flinch, they never would fret or whine
No matter the challenge, they never flinched or complained, they were sturdy characters.


Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the days of 49
They were strong as good bricks, and withstood the tough conditions, during the days of '49.


There was new york jake, the butcher boy, he was always getting tight
There was New York Jake, the butcher boy, who was always drunk.


And every time that hed get full he was spoiling for a fight
Whenever he was drunk, he was always looking for a fight.


Then jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old bob stein
Jake started a fight with Bob Stein, who had a knife.


And over jake they held a wake in the days of 49
Jake died, and a gathering was held in the memory of the deceased, during the days of '49.


There was poker bill, one of the boys who was always in a game
There was Poker Bill, who was always playing cards with other companions.


Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was always the same
Whether he won or lost, his reaction was always the same.


He would ante up and draw his cards and he would you go a hatful blind
He would bet against others when he had a weak hand, hoping to bluff.


In the game with death bill lost his breath, in the days of 49
While playing cards, Bill died, during the days of '49.


There was ragshag bill from buffalo, I never will forget
There was Ragshag Bill, from Buffalo, whom I will never forget.


He would roar all day and hed roar all night and I guess hes roaring yet
He used to raise a ruckus, making a loud noise, all day and all night, and I'm sure he's still doing the same thing.


One day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring bad design
One day, he fell into a hole while searching for a good place to mine gold.


And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the days of 49
He died while shouting, in that hole, during the days of '49.


Of the comrades all that Ive had, theres none thats left to boast
Of all my companions, there's none left for me to brag about.


And Im left alone in my misery like some poor wandering ghost
Now, I'm left alone with my suffering, and I feel like a wandering ghost.


And I pass by from town to town, they call me a rambling sign
As I travel from town to town, people refer to me as a restless wanderer.


There goes tom moore, a bummer shore in the days of 49
They say, 'There goes Tom Moore, a homeless man on the shore, during the days of '49.'




Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: TRADITIONAL, BOB DYLAN

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comments from YouTube:

@p1b1harper

I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise?
I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign
And all the people say, "there goes Tom Moore, in the days of '49"
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy crew
A few hard cases I will recall though they all were brave and true
Whatever the pitch they never would flinch, they never would fret or whine
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
There was new york jake, the butcher's boy, he was always getting tight
And every time that he'd get full he was spoiling for a fight
But jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old bob stein
And over jake they held a wake in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
There was poker bill, one of the boys who was always in a game
Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was always the same
He would ante up and draw his cards and he would you go a hatful blind
In the game with death bill lost his breath, in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
In the day of times i repine in the days of old
In the days of gold, those were days of '49
There was ragshag bill from buffalo, i never will forget
He would roar all day and he'd roar all night and i guess he's roaring yet
One day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring bad design
And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
Of the comrades all that i've had, there's none that's left to boast
And i'm left alone in my misery like some ol' poor wandering ghost
And i pass by from town to town, they call me the rambling sign
"There goes tom moore, a bummer shore in the days of '49"
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
In the days of old, when we dug up the gold
How oft'times i repine in the days of old
In the days of gold, in the days of '49



@juancamacho5746

I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise?
I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign
And all the people say, "there goes Tom Moore, in the days of '49"

In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
🎵🎶🎵🎶
My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy crew
A few hard cases I will recall though they all were brave and true
Whatever the pitch they never would flinch, they never would fret or whine
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the days of '49

In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
🎵🎶🎵🎶
There was new york jake, the butcher's boy, he was always getting tight
And every time that he'd get full he was spoiling for a fight
But jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old bob stein
And over jake they held a wake in the days of '49

In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
🎵🎶🎵🎶
There was poker bill, one of the boys who was always in a game
Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was always the same
He would ante up and draw his cards and he would you go a hatful blind
In the game with death bill lost his breath, in the days of '49

In the days of old, in the days of gold
In the day of times i repine in the days of old
In the days of gold, those were days of '49
🎵🎶🎵🎶
There was ragshag bill from Buffalo, i never will forget
He would roar all day and he'd roar all night and i guess he's roaring yet
One day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring bad design
And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the days of '49

In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
🎵🎶🎵🎶
Of the comrades all that i've had, there's none that's left to boast
And i'm left alone in my misery like some ol' poor wandering ghost
And i pass by from town to town, they call me the rambling sign
"There goes tom moore, a bummer shore in the days of '49"
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49

In the days of old, when we dug up the gold
How oft'times i repine in the days of old
In the days of gold, in the days of '49



All comments from YouTube:

@raifthemad

Took Youtube a long time to get this song uploaded. Used to search every few years, not a trace. Finally it's here and I'm pleased as a pig in muck.

@rickschritt1616

Back in the late 60's a buddy introduced me to this song , and it's always been one my favorite Dylan songs.🥰

@martajadwiga4501

It is a very nice song indeed and I do like how Bob made it his own, but it was not written by Bob

@TerrySmith-ec9cc

Perfect piece of Dylan art

@raindeerprojekt4119

My Lord I can Hear a Gold Miner singing this 120 years before this recording!!! Time is an illusion Machine

@p1b1harper

I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise?
I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign
And all the people say, "there goes Tom Moore, in the days of '49"
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy crew
A few hard cases I will recall though they all were brave and true
Whatever the pitch they never would flinch, they never would fret or whine
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
There was new york jake, the butcher's boy, he was always getting tight
And every time that he'd get full he was spoiling for a fight
But jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old bob stein
And over jake they held a wake in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
There was poker bill, one of the boys who was always in a game
Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was always the same
He would ante up and draw his cards and he would you go a hatful blind
In the game with death bill lost his breath, in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
In the day of times i repine in the days of old
In the days of gold, those were days of '49
There was ragshag bill from buffalo, i never will forget
He would roar all day and he'd roar all night and i guess he's roaring yet
One day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring bad design
And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the days of '49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft'times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
Of the comrades all that i've had, there's none that's left to boast
And i'm left alone in my misery like some ol' poor wandering ghost
And i pass by from town to town, they call me the rambling sign
"There goes tom moore, a bummer shore in the days of '49"
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How often times i repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of '49
In the days of old, when we dug up the gold
How oft'times i repine in the days of old
In the days of gold, in the days of '49

@incorrectobydefault2392

A big thanks!!!!!

@conorkennedy3304

oh my goodness

@sadeyedlady

Love you Pops. Thanks, Bobby !!!

@maggiebryan2355

Bob can really sell an old song great version

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