| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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comin' for to carry me home an am-bu-lance comin' after me comin' for to carry me home swing low, sweet ambulance comin' for to carry me home swing low, sweet ambulance comin' for to carry me home they put me on a stretcher, stuck me in the back gave me heroin to keep the pain at bay they said: we're goin' to a party and we don't plan to be tardy so you're lucky county general's on the way swing low, sweet ambulance comin' for to carry me home swing low, sweet ambulance comin' for to carry me home got to the hospital, stuck me in a room the doctor said: to save me, he'd try but the insurance man wouldn't foot my bill so he left me on the table to die swing low, sweet undertaker comin' for to carry me home swing low, sweet undertaker comin' for to carry me home looked over jordan, what did i see? comin' for to carry me home a '51 fleetwood comin' after me comin' for to carry me home swing low, sweet cadillac comin' for to carry me home swing low, sweet cadillac comin' for to carry me home (goin' home, goin' home) comin' for to carry me home (goin' home, goin' home) dizzy gillespie's gonna carry me home |
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afterwards, some drunk guy came up to me and said, "you know what you need to add to the song? the credit card thing. you heard about this? they just started this: when you go to the emergency room now they make you give 'em a credit card number...like they won't treat you unless they know for sure they can get your money. motherfuckers. you should put that in the song." still working on it. |
out on the corner on the square the drinks were served just as usual and that same motley crowd was there i sat next to old joe mckennedy his eyes were tear-stained and red he had a sad story to tell me and here are the words that he said: i went down to saint james' infimary i took my baby there laid her out upon a table so young, so cold, so fair i told the doctor: come quickly! but he said, you'll have to wait instead and when i went back to see my baby good lord, she was dead and i said, good-bye and god bless her for wherever she may be lord, it can only be better than this cruel world's misery and when i die, please bury me in my ragged suit and shoes and throw this old guitar in the grave with me 'cause i'm gonna die with these blues have six beggars be my pall bearer have six cripples sing me a song have a blues band follow my hearse wagon to play me to hell as we roll along so that's my sad story let's have another round of booze and if anyone should ask you, you can tell 'em i've got those saint james infirmary blues |
bet he died like a M-A-N |