Well, I wish I was in New Orleans, I can see it in my dreams,
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me
Hoist up a few tall cool ones, play some pool and listen
To that tenor saxophone calling me home
And I can hear the band begin "When the Saints Go Marching In",
And by the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans, I'll be there
there
saxophone
avenue
dixie
chuck
begin
nosed
dreams
cards
under
listen
whiskers
calling
burgundy
beans
wants
tenor
saints
bottle
table
orleans
drink
walks
haunts
weiss
hoist
friends
jones
dress
marching
saloon
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