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The Time Has Come

Christy Moore

Year: 1987

Christy Moore - The Knock Song - 3:26

Christy Moore - Faithful Departed - 3:15

Christy Moore - Nancy Spain - 3:48

Christy Moore - Lanigans Ball - 3:15

Christy Moore - All I Remember - 2:53

Christy Moore - Lakes of Pontchartrain - 3:53

Christy Moore - Dont Forget Your Shovel - 2:21

Christy Moore - The Wicklow Boy - 3:49

Christy Moore - The Time Has Come - 3:20

Christy Moore - Go Move Shift - 2:29

Christy Moore - Curragh of Kildare - 3:16

Christy Moore - Sacco + Vanzetti - 3:05

Christy Moore - Section 31 - 2:55

Christy Moore - Only Our Rivers Run Free - 2:54

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Download Lakes of Pontchartrain by Christy Moore

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Christy Moore Lakes of Pontchartrain lyrics

It was one fine March morning I bid New Orleans adieu
And I took the road to Jackson town, my fortune to renew.
I cursed all foreign money, no credit could I gain,
Which filled me heart with longing for the lakes of Ponchartrain.

I stepped on board of a railroad car beneath the morning sun,
I rode the rods till evening and I laid me down again.
All strangers there no friends to me till a dark girl towards me came
And I fell in love with my Creole girl by the lakes of Ponchartrain.

I said, "Me pretty Creole girl, me money here's no good,
If it weren't for the alligators, I'd sleep out in the wood."
"You're welcome here, kind stranger, from such sad thoughts refrain,
For me Mammy welcomes strangers by the lakes of Ponchartrain.

She took me into her Mammy's house, and treated me right well.
The hair upon her shoulders in jet black ringlets fell.
To try and paint her beauty, Im sure twould be in vain,
So handsome was my Creole girl by the lakes of Ponchartrain.

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
Till he'd return to his Creole girl on the lakes of Ponchartrain.

Its fare thee well, me Creole girl, I never may see you more.
I'll neer 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 Ponchartrain.