Текст песни Lakes Of Ponchartrain (Martin Simpson) с переводом

Through streams and bogs and under bush, I made my weary way

Though windfalls thick and devil’s floods, my aching feet did stray

Until at last by evening start, on higher ground I gained

And there I met with a Creole girl, by the Lakes of Pontchartrain

Good evening to you Creole girl, my money is no good

Although I fear the gators, well I must defend the wood

You are welcome here kind stranger, my house is very plain

But we never turn a stranger out, by the Lakes of Pontchartrain

She took me to her mammy’s house, and she treated me right well

The hair around her shoulders, in them jet black ringlets fell

I’d try to describe her beauty, but I find the words in vain

So beautiful that Creole girl, by the Lakes of Pontchartrain

Well I asked if she’d marry me, she said that could not be

Because she loved a sailor, and he’s far away at sea

She said that she would marry him, and true she would remain

Even through he never did comeback, to the Lakes of Pontchartrain

So farewell farwell you Creole girl, I’ll ne’er see you no more

I’ll ne’er forget your kindness, in the cottage by the shore

And at each social gathering, a flowing glass I’d drain

And I drink a health to the Creole girl, by the Lakes of Pontchartrain

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