When I was in Chicago, when I was on the bum,
they wouldn’t sell me whiskey and they wouldn’t sell me rum
They threw me in the alley jail to gaze upon the wall
The bedbugs and the roaches were playing indoor ball
the score was nine to nothing the roaches were ahead
The bedbugs hit a home run and knocked me off the bed
4 o’clock in the morning they rang the breakfast bell
A couple of old potatoes and Lordy how the smelled
Coffee like tobacco juice the bread was old and stale
God bless those good old days in the dear old alley jail