| Being on one bright March morning
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| I bid New Orleans adieu
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| And I took the road to Jackson Town
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| My fortune to renew
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| I cursed all foreign money
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| No credit could I gain
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| Which filled my heart with longing for
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| The lakes of Ponchartrain
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| I stepped on board of a railroad car
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| Beneath the morning sun
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| And I rode the rods till evening
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| And laid me down again
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| No friend to me, all strangers
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| Till a dark girl towards me came
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| And I fell in love with a Creole girl
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| By the lakes of Ponchartrain
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| I said, «My pretty Creole girl
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| My money here’s no good
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| If it weren’t for the alligators
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| I’d sleep out in the wood»
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| «You're welcome here, kind stranger
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| Our house is very plain
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| But we never turned a stranger out
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| On the banks of Pontchartrain»
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| She took me to her mammy’s house
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| And treated me right well
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| The hair upon her shoulders
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| In long dark ringlets fell
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| To try to paint her beauty
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| I’m sure would be in vain
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| So handsome was my Creole girl
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| By the lakes of Pontchartrain
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| I asked her if she’d marry me
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| Oh no, that could never be
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| For she had got a lover
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| And he was far at sea
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| And she vowed that she would wait for him
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| And true she would remain
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| So constant was my Creole girl
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| By the lakes of Pontchartrain
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| So fare-thee-well, my bonnie young girl
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| I never will see you more
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| But I’ll ne’er forget your kindness
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| In the cottage by the shore
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| And at each social gathering
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| A flowing glass I’ll drink
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| And I’ll drink a health to my Creole girl
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| By the lakes of Pontchartrain |