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I went down to the St. James Infirmary, and I saw my baby there.
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He was stretched out on a long white table, so cold , so fine , so fair.
Let him go, let him go, God bless him, wherever he may be.
He can search the whole world over, but heíll never find a doll( one) like me.
Yes, sixteen coal black horse, to pull that rubber tied hack;
And itís seventeen miles to the graveyard, but my babyís never coming back.
Well, now youíve listened to my story, so have another round of booze;
And if anyone should ever ask you, I got those St. James Infirmary blues.