When I was learning this song the other day I was thinking it would be nice to end up at St. Peter's Gate, elevate the last four lines to that heavenly realm so to speak. Here's the way it runs now (copy and paste into WORD/TIMES/12 to line up chords):

Poem by Burt Franklin Jenness
From SEA LANES, edited by Burt Franklin Jenness,
The Churchill Publishing Co., Boston, US, © 1921, pp. 53-55.
Adapted by Charlie Ipcar, 4/7/07
Key: G

BUMBOATS-4

G--------------------------C
Now I've had a whirl at games of chance
----------G---------D7--------G
    From Bombay 'round to Cork,
----------------------------------------
I've seen the ways of high finance
-----------------------------D
    In cut-throat old New York;
--G---------------------------------
I know the way a bargain's made
----------------------D
    In Con-ti-nent-al marts,
--------G-------------------C
Where crafty merchants ply their trade
---------G---------D7------G
    And practice cunning arts;
-------------------------C
But when I call them back to mind,
-----G-------D7------G
    I make a solemn vow –
------------------------------------
There's only one of all their kind
---------------------------------D
    Could sell me something now;
--------G-------------------------
There's only one that ever can
------------------------------------D
    Bring pleasant thoughts to me –
-----G----------------C
And that's the little bumboatman,
----------G--------D7----G
    Who paddles out to sea:
-------------C---------------------G
With his: "Gotta nice ripa ba-nan,
---------D-------------D7-----------G
    You buy da beeg orange? He sweet!
C-------------------G----------
Gotta cirgarette; lika da fan?
---------D-------D7---------G
    You lika da fine par-a-keet?"

Now as we watched them rowing out,
    At first they looked like specks,
Just creeping down the bay,
    'Bout the time we'd swabbed the decks,
They'd be hovering 'round like gulls –
    A-waiting the mess call hail,
We'd break for mess, and in the lulls
    We'd gather 'long the rail;
They'd shout: (CHO)

And on the wonders in each boat
    We'd feast our hungry eyes,
As their little craft would float,
    We'd bargain for a prize;
Coral, shells, and blow-fish dried,
    Fruit, and Guava jell,
Nuts, and gum, and dried snake hide,
    Lace, and tortoise shell –
And their: (CHO)

If there's reward for toil and strife,
    When comes the final test,
In cheering up a sailor's life –
    The Bumboatman's the best;
And arriving at St. Peter's Gate,
    That realm beyond the sky,
They'll let him in with no delay
    When they hear him cry:
"Gotta nice ripa banan,
    You buy da beeg orange? He sweet!
Gotta cirgarette; lika da fan?
    You lika da fine parakeet?" (2X)

Cheerily,
Charley Noble