• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• St. James - Avenged Sevenfold
• St. James - Devil Makes Three

This is the story of a man,
Who conquered life drink in hand
Ship unmanned.
Marked by genius, channelled good,
By some a bit misunderstood.
They'd been wrong many times before
Some times our saints are sinners,
They blur the lines and lead the way,
Their Way.
Raise hell and a glass in reverence,
The fearless lives of our great saints - our saints.
Never a stranger to late night snake
bite fist fights and empty pints,
Unrivaled heights.
He led with songs, they sang along,
created bonds that held so strong
Some were right and some were wrong
Some times our saints are sinners,
They blur the lines and lead the way,
Their Way.
Raise hell and a glass in reverence,
The fearless lives of our great saints, our saints.
It's by the sea and at nights end that's when the sin and swill begin
That's when he had that certain light inside his head
For every whisper he would scream for every draught he shared a drink
For every sorrow there is a light from our St. James
On the sea by the cliff he watches, he waits the night to see
The day - his way
Last call will find us all
But there's a light that leads the way, our way.
Some times our saints are sinners,
They blur the lines and lead the way,
Their Way.
Raise hell and a glass in reverence,

Well, I went down to Old Joe's Barroom
Down on the corner by the square
They were serving drinks as usual
Oh, the usual crowd was there
In the corner sat Big Joe McKenzie
His eyes were blood shot red
And as he turned to address the crowd around him
These were the very words that he said:
Well I went down to St James Infirmary
To see my baby there
She was laid out on that long white table
So cold, so pale, so fair
Let her go, let her go, God bless her
Where ever she may be
Let her search that whole wide world over
Never find a man as sweet as me
She'll never find a man as sweet as me
When I die, won't you bury me in my high top Stetson hat
Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch hand
So the gang'll know I died standing pat
I want six crapshooters for pallbearers
Pretty gals sing me a song
I want a jazz band on my hearse wagon
To raise Hell as we roll 'long
Won't you roll out that rubber tire hack
Thirteen men go down to that old graveyard
There's only twelve of them men coming back
Now that you heard my story
Have another shot of the booze
Anything anybody should ask
I got the St James Infirmary blues