Folks, I'm going down to St. James Infirmary See my baby there, She's stretched out on a long, withe table, She's so sweet, so cold, so fair. Let her go, let her go, oh Bless her, Wherever she may be; She will search this wide world over, But she'll never find another sweet man Like me. Now, when I die bury me in My straight-leg britches, Put me 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-shootin' pall-bearers, Let a chorus girl sing me a song; Put a red-hot jazz band at the top of my head So they can raise Hallelujah as we go along Now, Folks, that you have heard my story... Say, boy, hand me over another shoot of that booze, If anyone should ask you, Tell 'em I got those St. James Infirmary Blues.