The old man down in the Quarter
Slowly turns his head
Takes a sip from his whiskey bottle
And this is what he said
I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain
Underneath the Louisiana moon
I don't mind the strain of a hurricane
They come around every June
The high black water, a devil's daughter
She's hard, she's cold and she's mean
But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water
To wash away New Orleans