| Me name is Sam Jones and it’s bones me occupation
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| Chuck your old hocks out for my consideration
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| Thirty years a bone man, up and down the nation
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| Sam Jones deliver them bones
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| I’ve been among the shamrock and I’ve been among the thistle
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| I like it all picked over, clean as a whistle
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| No sign of meat on, no sign of gristle
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| Sam Jones deliver them bones
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| I’ve seen battlefields white with human ivory
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| Noble dukes and princes stripped of flesh and finery
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| When the crows have done their job, they say that’s the time for me
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| Sam Jones deliver them bones
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| And I even dream of bones when I’m lying very ill
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| Roomsfull of skeletons a-dancing the quadrille
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| Rows and rows of skulls singing Blueberry Hill
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| Sam Jones deliver them bones
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| And if you’re unburied, the likes of me will find you
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| You’re no good to worms, but you might become the finest glue
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| We’ll grind you up and spread you out as fertiliser, too
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| Sam Jones deliver them bones
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| And I’ve got a lorry, it’s me own boneshaker
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| Where’s there old knuckle joints I’ll be the undertaker
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| I’ll come calling 'round just like the butcher and the baker
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| Sam Jones deliver them bones
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| Me name is Sam Jones and it’s bones me occupation
|
| Chuck your old hocks out for my consideration
|
| Thirty years a bone man, up and down the nation
|
| Sam Jones deliver them bones
|
| Oh, Sam Jones deliver them bones
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| Sam Jones deliver them bones |