#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------##
Received: from nevada.edu (animal-farm.nevada.edu) by redrock.nevada.edu (5.65c/M1.4)
with SMTP id ; Wed, 11 Nov 1992 16:37:36 -0800
Received: from ucscb.UCSC.EDU by animal-farm.nevada.edu. id aa15214;
11 Nov 92 16:25 PST
Received: by ucscb.UCSC.EDU (5.65/1.34)
id AA14600; Wed, 11 Nov 92 16:24:57 -0800
Date: Wed, 11 Nov 92 16:24:57 -0800
From: Adam Schneider
Message-Id: <9211120024.AA14600@ucscb.UCSC.EDU>
To: jamesb@nevada.edu
Subject: Nanci_Griffith/BanksOfThePontchartrain.crd
"BANKS OF THE PONCHARTRAIN," by Nanci Griffith
[Capo 3]
F Bb F
I'm going back where my garden blooms all year
Am Gm F
Where the winter time speaks softly in the falling rain
Bb F
I'm going back to my green-eyed lover there
Am Bb F
We will dance along the banks of old Lake Ponchartrain
Chorus:
C
Take me to the station
Bb F
I am late to catch my south-bound train
C
Oh I'm gonna call my cousin Libby
Bb F
She will be waitin' by the tracks when I roll in
Am
(And) I'm gonna roll across America
Bb F
Just to stand beside my Ponchartrain again
Oh' I've grown pale beneath the streets of Montreal
Where the voices ring like bells in French-Canadian
And the rivers stand imprisoned till the thaws
I am alone at night and dream of my own Pontchartrain
These old rails shake like thunder through the night
Soon I'll have my green-eyed lover's arms to comfort me
Oh, I can see my cousin Libby by his side
Her hair will flow in waves like on Lake Pontchartrain
I'm going back where my garden blooms all year
Where the wintertime speaks softly in the fallin' rain
I'm goin' back to my green-eyed lover there
And we will dance along the banks of old Lake Pontchartrain
Yes we will dance along the banks of old Lake Pontchartrain
We will dance along the banks of old Lake Pontchartrain
And here comes the train . . .
|