Martin Simpson все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Through streams and bogs and under bush, I made my weary way,
Though windfalls thick and devil's floods, my aching feet did stray.
Until at last by evening start, on higher ground I gained,
And there I met with a Creole girl, by the Lakes of Pontchartrain.

Good evening to you Creole girl, my money is no good,
Although I fear the gators, well I must defend the wood.
You are welcome here kind stranger, my house is very plain,