| Don’t remember much about my baby days | 
| But I’ve been told | 
| We used to live on Willow in the Garden District | 
| Next to the sugar bowl | 
| Momma used to wheel me past an ice cream wagon | 
| One side for white and one side for colored | 
| I remember the trash cans floatin' down Canal Street | 
| It rained every day one summer | 
| Momma used to take me to Audubon Park | 
| Show me the ways of the world | 
| She said, «here comes a white boy, there goes a black one | 
| That one’s an octaroon | 
| This little cookie here’s a macaroon, that big round | 
| Thing’s a red balloon | 
| And the paper down here’s called the picayune | 
| And here’s a New Orleans tune» | 
| In 1948 my Daddy came to the city | 
| Told the people they’d won the war | 
| Maybe they’d heard about it, maybe not | 
| Probably they’d heard about it and just forgot | 
| 'Cause they built him a platform in Jackson Square | 
| And the people came to hear him from everywhere | 
| They started to party and partied some more | 
| 'Cause New Orleans had won the war | 
| (We knew we’d do it, we done whip those yankees) | 
| Daddy said, «I'm gonna get this boy out of this place | 
| Bound to sap his strength | 
| People have fun here, and I think that they should | 
| But nobody from here ever come to no good | 
| They’re gonna pickle him in brandy and tell him he’s saved | 
| Then throw fireworks all 'round his grave» | 
| So he took us to the airport and flew us back to L. A | 
| That was the end of my baby days | 
| Blue blue morning, blue blue day | 
| All your bad dreams drift away | 
| It’s a blue blue morning, of a blue blue day | 
| Lose those bad dreams | 
| Those gray clouds above you | 
| What you want them around with you for? | 
| You got someone to love you | 
| Who could ask for more? | 
| It’s a blue blue morning, of a blue blue day | 
| All your bad dreams drift away |