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I traveled from Texas to old Louisanne |
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Through valleys, o'er mountains and plains |
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Both footsore and weary I rested awhile |
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On the banks of the old Pontchartrain. |
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The fairest young maiden that I ever saw |
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Passed by as it started to rain |
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We both found a shelter beneath the same tree |
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On the banks of the old Pontchartrain. |
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We hid from the shower an hour or so |
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She asked me how long I'd remain |
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I told her that I'd spend the rest of my days |
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On the banks of the old Pontchartrain. |
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I just couldn't tell her that I ran away |
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From jail on a West Texas plain |
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I prayed in my heart I would never be found |
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On the banks of the old Pontchartrain. |
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Then one day a man put his hand on my arm |
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And said I must go west again |
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I left her alone without saying goodbye |
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On the banks of the old Pontchartrain. |
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Tonight as I sit here alone in my cell |
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I know that she's waiting in vain |
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I'm hoping and praying someday to return |
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On the banks of the old Pontchartrain |
