It was one fine March morning I bid New Orleans adieu,
and I took the road to Jackson town, my fortune to renew.
I cursed all foreign mo..ney, no credit could I gain,
till I fell in love with the Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.
She took me into her Mamma s house, and treated me right well,
the hair upon her shoulders in jet black ringlets fell.
To try and paint her beauty, I knew, it would be in vain,
so handsome was my Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.
I asked her if she d marry me, she said that ne er could be,
for she had got a lover and he was far at sea.
She said that she would wait for him and true she would remain,
till he d return to his Creole girl on the lakes of Pontchartrain.
It s fare thee well, my Creole girl, I never will see you more,
I won t forget your kindness in the cottage by the shore.
And at each social gathering, a flowing bowl I ll drain,
and I ll drink a health to my Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.
