You can’t love a place unless you know it
really know it like you were born there
moved there young had time to explore
walk the streets talk to the people
New Orleans never was a cream and sugar town
it was a poor place black coffee place
good place to visit if you didn’t dig too deep
hard place to live lots of folks went there
ordered up a plate of crawfish they didn’t eat
mostly they wanted to hear about Jelly Roll
ask if Fats was still alive go to the races
at the Fair Grounds ride the St. Charles trolley
see the skin on Bourbon Street look for Miss
Rice in the French Quarter go back to Dallas
Denver Detroit say they been to Al Hurt’s
saw Blackmen play horns and accordions try to
explain Zydeco recite the ingredients in a
hurricane they had at Pat O’ what was that
Irishman’s name? O’Brady O’Bunyon
O’Brannon O’Something
They didn’t catch the win’s name the old
Blackman that asked for 50¢ (cash money not the rapper)
the dancer that had him reaching for his wallet
again/again and again the waitress that served the
Cajun coffee at Mama’s or the guy that mixed
the hurricane at the Irish bar with the elusive name
I knew these people where they lived worked
their days off their daddies what school their
kids went to or skipped
The president don’t know New Orleans he’s like
one of those tourists was before the Gulf served up
a drink bigger than the hurricanes at Pat O’Whatsits
is after the GOP came down the Mississippi and set up a
blockade woulda made the Union Navy proud to keep the
natives from going to the polls
If I do go back all the places and people have
shifted some ain’t coming back some ain’t opening
back up some are dead all are broke most
likely though tourists are already there drinking
hurricanes asking about Mardi Gras looking for Fats
drinking more hurricanes too many hurricanes