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
Every year I find a song for my birthday. Today I turn 49 and chose this one. Just now noticed the time being 5:31, which my birthday is May 31st, so I see it as a sign
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
I never knew Dylan did a cover of this but I love it. I've been listening to Fred Holstein's version of it for about the last 50 years ua-cam.com/video/E_EHYVjdBAw/v-deo.html
Title cut from an album the critics hated, but then I didn't mind it. I was not a Nashville Skyline fan. Didn't like Lay Lady Lay. Self Portrait was kind of fun. I guess not a title track as much as maybe the first track/cut.
My comrades in the Communist party they all loved me well, a sullen impertinent crew / A few hard cases who booed me at my concerts I will recall though they all were cowards and liars / Whatever the pitch - Music: To set the pitch or key of also pitchman - an aggressive salesman who uses a fast line of talk to sell something / they never would flinch, recoil, as from something unpleasant or difficult / they never would fret - be vexed or troubled also fret: of several ridges set across the fingerboard of certain stringed instruments, such as guitars or protest in a childish fashion / Like helpful, reliable people “bricks” / they stood my kicking their asses out in the days of '49
Took UA-cam 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.
love that album
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
A big thanks!!!!!
Every year I find a song for my birthday. Today I turn 49 and chose this one. Just now noticed the time being 5:31, which my birthday is May 31st, so I see it as a sign
Back in the late 60's a buddy introduced me to this song , and it's always been one my favorite Dylan songs.🥰
It is a very nice song indeed and I do like how Bob made it his own, but it was not written by Bob
It's still a bob Dylan song cause he recorded it, and he did change the lyrics slightly. Nobody here claimed he wrote the thing.
Bob always does it best 😘
I love this song!
Perfect piece of Dylan art
Bob can really sell an old song great version
My dad liked this song back in 70 used to make him laugh North North London
Damn! That boy can really sing.
My Lord I can Hear a Gold Miner singing this 120 years before this recording!!! Time is an illusion Machine
One of Dylan's greatest (covers). Bob could really do a great cover.
I dig Copper Ketlle, too.
The cover resembles him, pretty good art !
I learned to play this song on the guitar instructed by Klaus in the youth club "Villa Kreuzberg", Berlin, Germany. Thank you Klaus and Bob !
Great version!
Great job on a traditional song!
One of Dylan's best. His nasal drawl is no chorus of nightengales, but for a storytelling ballard, it fits.
Dylan's singing voice is perfect
Love you Pops. Thanks, Bobby !!!
The Dead should have covered this! I can hear Jerry’s lead playing funky Psychedelic Dixieland with this!
Bob Is such a great singer!
Isn't it amazing... what was old is suddenly new and great again....thanks you BD...LUV
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
Excellent....really like listening to the story...well done.
Killer tune
Love it so much, it's a great song with very beautiful arrangement... Glad it's here...
Siempre bien arriba
Фольклорная песня времён золотой лихорадки, начавшейся в 1849 в США. Версия Дилана великолепна, - пожалуй, наилучшая!!
Classic
Upvoted for the bass harmonica.
Oh my goodness lol
Love the Pink feel of this time in Dylans voice
is it possible it's Roving Scion instead of Roving Sign?
Published lyrics from 1903 say "sign" so probably not. The second "bummer shore" though, is "bummer, sure."
Oh My goodness
Sometimes, I feel like rag tag Bill from Buffalo 😂😢
The old sourdoughs song, remembrance of the panning days.
I never knew Dylan did a cover of this but I love it. I've been listening to Fred Holstein's version of it for about the last 50 years ua-cam.com/video/E_EHYVjdBAw/v-deo.html
Title cut from an album the critics hated, but then I didn't mind it. I was not a Nashville Skyline fan. Didn't like Lay Lady Lay. Self Portrait was kind of fun. I guess not a title track as much as maybe the first track/cut.
My comrades in the Communist party they all loved me well, a sullen impertinent crew / A few hard cases who booed me at my concerts I will recall though they all were cowards and liars / Whatever the pitch - Music: To set the pitch or key of also pitchman - an aggressive salesman who uses a fast line of talk to sell something / they never would flinch, recoil, as from something unpleasant or difficult / they never would fret - be vexed or troubled also fret: of several ridges set across the fingerboard of certain stringed instruments, such as guitars or protest in a childish fashion / Like helpful, reliable people “bricks” / they stood my kicking their asses out in the days of '49
“Whatever the pinch. “i.e. the squeeze.the difficulty. “They never would flinch”.
@@patmiddleton3947 I hear pitch as in musical Pat
Dylan plays all the tools on this track .....BSFYI
oh my goodness