Hurricane sing and play along

Thirty miles on the Gulf Stream,

I hear the south wind moan.

The bridge is getting lower, the shrimp boat's coming home.

The old man down in the Quarter

slowly turns his head,

takes a sip from his whiskey bottle,

and this is what he said:

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain,

underneath the Lou'siana moon.

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane;

they come around ev'ry June.

The high black water, a devil's daughter.

She's hard, she's cold and she's mean.

But nobody taught her it takes a lot of water to wash away New Orleans.

Man came down from Chicago;

he gonna set that levee right.

He says, "It needs to be at least three feet higher.

It won't make it through the night."

But the old man down in the Quarter,

he said, "Don't you listen to that boy.

The water be down by the morning,

and he'll be back to Illinois."

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain,

underneath the Lou'siana moon.

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane;

they come around ev'ry June.

The high black water, a devil's daughter.

She's hard, she's cold and she's mean.

But nobody taught her it takes a lot of water to wash away New Orleans.

born in the rain on the Pontchartrain,

underneath the Lou'siana moon.

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane;

they come around ev'ry June.

The high black water, a devil's daughter.

She's hard, she's cold and she's mean.

But nobody taught her it takes a lot of water to wash away New Orleans.

Thirty miles on the Gulf Stream,

I hear the south wind moan.

The bridge is getting lower, the shrimp boat's coming home.

The old man down in the Quarter

slowly turns his head,

takes a drink from his whiskey bottle,

and this is what he said:

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain,

underneath the Lou'siana moon.

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane;

they come around ev'ry June.

The high black water, a devil's daughter.

She's hard, she's cold and she's mean.

But nobody taught her it takes a lot of water to wash away New Orleans.

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain,

underneath the Lou'siana moon.

I don't mind the strain of a hurricane;

they come around ev'ry June.

The high black water, a devil's daughter.

She's hard, she's cold and she's mean.

But nobody taught her it takes a lot of water to wash away New Orleans.

I was

Nobody taught her it takes a lot of water to wash away New Orleans.

Yeah!