I went down to St. James Infirmary.
Heard my baby moan.
I felt so broken-hearted.
She used to be my own.
I tried to keep from crying.
My heart felt just like lead.
She was all I had to live for.
I wish it was me instead.
Went down to St. James Infirmary
All was still as night
My gal was on the table.
Stretched out so pale, so white.
Though she treated me, mean and lowdown.
Somehow didn't care.
Now my soul is sick and weary.
I hope we meet again, up there.
