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Well, I wish I was in New Orleans, I can see it in my dreams, |
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Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me |
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Hoist up a few tall cool ones, play some pool and listen |
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To that tenor saxophone calling me home |
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And I can hear the band begin "When the Saints Go Marching In", |
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And by the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans, I'll be there |
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I'll drink you under the table, be red-nosed, go for walks, |
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The old haunts what I wants is red beans and rice |
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And wear the dress I like so well, and meet me at the old saloon, |
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Make sure that there's a Dixie moon, New Orleans, I'll be there |
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And deal the cards roll the dice, if it ain't that old Chuck E. Weiss, |
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And Claiborne Avenue, me and you Sam Jones and all |
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And I wish I was in New Orleans, 'cause I can see it in my dreams, |
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Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me |
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New Orleans, I'll be there |
![I Wish I Was In New Orleans [in The Ninth Ward]](/storage/23/229737.jpg "I Wish I Was In New Orleans [in The Ninth Ward]")