It was one fine March morning, I bid New Orleans adieu
And I took the road to Jacksontown, and my fortune to renew.
I cursed all foreign money, no credit could I gain,
Til I fell in love with the creole girl, by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

She took me into her Mama's house, and treated me right well,
The hair upon her shoulders, in jet-black ringlets fell.
To try and paint her beauty, I knew it would be in vain,
So handsome was my creole girl, by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I asked her if she'd marry me, she said that ne'er could be.
For she had got a lover, and he was far at sea.
She said that she would wait for him, and true she would remain,
Til he'd return to his creole girl, by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

Fair thee well my creole girl, I never will see you more,
I won't forget your kindness, in the cottage by the shore,
And at each social gathering, a flowing bowl I'll drain,
And I'll drink a health to my creole girl, by the lakes of Pontchartrain.