Well mama dreams of Paris nights and boatin' on the Seine
She said, we're gonna make it there too soon as Papa comes home again
She'd speak to me in broken French dressed like a painting of Lautrec
At night she'd clutch me to her breast and say, well make it outta here
And though Parisian ladies strut so fine down the Eiffel morning
It's a Southern one I sing my songs for

Well with the local bunch of do-good boys and an old man from the West
We crossed the land in the caravan we traveled with the best
W saw circus acts and vaudeville hacks and a Mississippi Delta Queen
She told me the news and sold me her blues in an alley in New Orleans
And though the Western plains are still stained
With the blood of great cowboys
It's a Southern sun that shines down on this Yankee boy