C          Em             Am G       F                             C       G
    It was one fine March morning I bid New Orleans adieu,
               C          Em       Am         G            Am        C          F
    and I took the road to Jackson town, my fortune       to renew.
        C            Em         Am G         Am       C              F
    I cursed all foreign mo..ney, no credit        could I gain,
           C      Em                   Am    G              F                          C       G
    till I fell in love with the Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

             C        Em           Am           G                F                        C     G
    She took me into her Mamma's house, and treated me right well,
            C     Em          Am  G        Am         C          F
    the hair upon her shoulders in jet black ringlets fell.
          C         Em          Am  G       Am        C              F
    To try and paint her beauty, I knew, it would be in vain,
           C              Em         Am     G              F                          C       G
    so handsome was my Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

       C            Em        Am      G           F                               C
    I asked her if she'd marry me, she said that ne'er could be,
           C          Em  Am/G         C                    F
    for she had got a lover and he was far at sea.
             C           Em            Am        G            C                         F
    She said that she would wait for him and true she would remain,
           C      Em             Am     G              F                           C       G
    till he'd return to his Creole girl on the lakes of Pontchartrain.

           C            Em          Am     G      F                             C       G
    It’s fare thee well, my Creole girl, I never will see you more,
        C          Em       Am    G              Am       C            F
    I won’t forget your kindness in the cottage by the shore.
            C         Em      Am   G         Am        C           F
    And at each social gathering, a flowing bowl I'll drain,
                  C        Em               Am     G              F                           C
    and I'll drink a health to my Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain.