I went down to old Joe's bar room, 
on the corner by the square
Well, the drinks were bein' served as usual, 
and this motley crowd was there

Well, on my left stood Joe McKennedy, 
and his eyes were bloodshot red
When he told me that sad story, 
these were the words he said:

I went down to the St. James infirmary, 
I saw my baby there
She was stretched out on a long white table, 
so cold, so wseet, so fair

Let her go, let her go, God 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 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. 

Well, now you've heard my story, 
well, have another round of booze
And if anyone should ever, ever ask you, 
I've got the St. James infirmary blues!

Folks, now that you have heard my story, 
Say, boy, hand me another shot of that booze; 
If anyone should ask you, 
Tell ’em I’ve got those St. James Infirmary blues.