Em                         G                    C                Am
I lived down here for sixty year an nevah ast fo more
Em                   G                                       C                  Am
This is where I laid my Helen with a stone angel by the door
      D                                                    C
And after Mass I bring her flowers and comfort some to me
Em                               G                     C                              Em
Ought-five brought the hurricanes and swept away the cemetery

Was terrible days when the water rose up and the people could not flee
Nothin lef to eat an drink an fearful of the sea
An when no hep came we walked away from all that stinkin mud
An the po-lice made us turn around and go back to the flood

The govmen sen us all the hep, they sen it all too late
Once the city lay like a ham steak bone thas dried upon a plate
Brave folks says we'll build again, but that was nevah so
        G                    C                 D
They spen a billion dollahs, and then they let it go

                               C         G         D                       Em                            
     CHO. (An there) ain no beignet, ain no crawfish pie
               G                                                           D
         Bourbon Street is the angels beat in the sweet bye-an-bye
                             C                 B7       Em             C                G        Em      A
         An they's plenty good fish an plenty good sweet black delta dirt to plow
                            G--Em--B7                            Em
         But they ain           no big no easy now

The po' black folks an oil riggers is cut down to a fraction
But there's jazz all night an slot machines in the French Quarter Tourist Attraction
An they keeps discovrin corpses and other horra scenes
An thas the way life sorta goes on down in New Orleans

There's a oil dock for the mile-long tankers come from Abu Dai
All the black refinery chimneys smudgin up the sky
But they ain no streets and they ain no folks an they ain no blessed town
Three centuries below the seawall, N'Oleans done been drowned

The pelicans is coming back to nest in the debris
And the Mississippi stills pours out its heart upon the sea
But the dikes came down an bled away the vanity of man
Lake Ponchartrain is all at one wit the gulf of Yucatan

     CHO. Ain no beignet, ain no crawfish pie
         Bourbon Street is the angels beat in the sweet bye-an-bye
         An they's plenty good fish an plenty good sweet black delta dirt to plow
         But they ain no big no easy now

© Copyright 2006 by Dennis D'Asaro