well, i wish i was in new orleans
i can see it in my dreams, arm-in-arm down burgundy
a bottle and my friends and me, hoist up a few tall cool ones
play some pool and listen to that tenor saxophone calling me home
and i can hear the band begin “when the saints go marching in”
and by the whiskers on my chin, new orleans, i’ll be there
i’ll drink you under the table, be red-nosed, go for walks and
the old haunts what i wants is red beans and rice
and wear the dress i like so well, and meet me at the old saloon
make sure that there’s a dixie moon
new orleans, i’ll be there
and deal the cards roll the dice, if it ain’t that old chuck e. weiss
and claiborne avenue, me and you sam jones and all
and i wish i was in new orleans, ’cause i can see it in my dreams
arm-in-arm down burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me
new orleans, i’ll be there…