Pontchartrain

O it was one fine morning I bid New Orleans adieu And took the road to Jackson Town My fortune to renew I cursed all foreign money No credit could I gain Which had my heart a-longing For the Lakes of...

Sunday: Dark water draining north The heat swells and bursts like plague Sunday: Ever-so-faint slow tambourine Glides onward toward the grave Who drew the line? Who drew the line Between you and me?...