Lake Pontchatrain
When I saw the waters of Lake Pontchatrain, I was transported back again To a time out of time On a second line Marching to their own serenade Suspended on a sweet refrain The saints and the haints at the Mississippi’s gate Come drifting in on the steamy haze We pray for a breeze To stir the leaves of the Live oaks draped in Spanish moss Feel the rhythm and pulse Of this human gumbo The threat rain but thunder only rumbles...