Louisiana rain now is falling just like tears. Running down my face washing out the years.

Louisiana rain is soaking through my shoes. I may never be the same when I reach Baton Rouge.

Somewhere deep in the middle of the night, lovers hold each other tight. Whisper in their anxious ears, words of love that disappear.

Even the losers get lucky sometimes. Even the losers keep a little bit of pride. They get lucky sometimes.

As I go musing through this mournful land Soothed by the pine-tree's solemn harmony, Thy well-loved image comes and walks by me. I seem to hold thee by the gen…

Where Claribel low-lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall: But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, Thick-leaved, ambrosial, With an ancient mel…

Break, break, break At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.