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