Banks Of The Old Pontchartrain

Oh, I traveled from Texas to old Louisiana, through valleys or mountains and plains.

Footsworn and weary, I rested a while on the banks of the old Pontchartrain.

And the fairest young maiden that ever I saw passed by as it started to rain.

We both found a shelter beneath the same tree On the banks of the old Pontchartrain

Oh we hid from the shower an hour or so She asked me how long I'd remain

Told her I'd spend the rest of my days On the banks of the old Pontchartrain

I couldn't tell her that I'd run away From a jail on the West Texas plain

I prayed in my heart I would never be found On the banks of the old Pontchartrain

One day a man put a hand on my arm Said I must go west again

I left her alone without saying goodbye On the banks of the old Pontchartrain.

Tonight as I sit here alone in my cell I know that she's waiting in vain.

I'm hoping and praying someday to return To the banks of the old Pontchartrain.