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Banks Of The Pontchartrain ukulele

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#----------------------------------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. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------##
 <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 . . .

            
            
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