The Belle of Bourbon Street

THE BELLE OF BOURBON STREET

Cm . . . . . . . . . . . . F#
Nighttime falls on New Orleans:
D . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . C . . . . E . . . . . . Am
Black boys come out to dance for tips on Bourbon Street.
The tourists walk and gawk at the scene,
Listening to Dixieland and looking for the ghost of Jean Lafitte.

F . . . . . . . . . . . . . . C . . . . . . F . . . . . . . . . C

You see her coming toward you as you walk down the street

F . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . C . . . . D . . . . . . . . . E

So you cross on over to the other side so you will not meet.
Am . . . . . . . . Bb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Am
But in that mountain of flesh there's still a girl

Cm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . F#m

With eyes that flash like diamonds,

Hair that shines like night,

And the men they cluster round her

D . . . . . . . . . . . . . . C . . . . . . E

As she dances in the stroboscopic light.
F . . . . . . . . . . . . . C . . . . F . . . . . . . . . . C
So you can call her Brandy, Or you can call her Sandy
F . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . E . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Am
But in her dreams, she's still the Belle of Bourbon Street.

F . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . C
Well, the men all knew her, from Dallas to Atlanta
E . . . . . . . . . . . Am
Up to Richmond, down to Biloxi.
She was the loveliest and fairest of them all
She was dainty, demure, and so foxy.
F . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . C
But though she danced in Washington
Up and down the coast.
From Tampa up to Baltimore
E . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Am
She loved New Orleans the most.

And sometimes her name was Sandy.

Sometimes her name was Randy.

But in New Orleans, she was the Belle of Bourbon Street.

F . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . C . . . . . . . . . F . . . . . . . C
Well, the men they clustered round her in the stroboscopic light
F . . . . . . . . . . E . . . . . . Am
Reaching for a token of her love.
And when the dance was over, they stumbled out into the night
Clutching a garter or a glove.
She danced away till morning, Until the break of day
Then went out to the Cafe du Monde For chicory and beignet.

And sometimes they called her Randy,

And sometimes they called her Mandy,

But in New Orleans, they called her The Belle of Bourbon

Then the years they clustered round her, Like the men they used to do
And the lights no longer flattered her; Men passed right on through.
But the wine is warm and friendly. How it eases off the pain
Of the memory of all she'd been, The loss of all her fame.

And once her name was Mandy.

Once her name was Candy.

Once she was the Belle of Bourbon Street.

Nighttime falls on New Orleans.
Black boys come out to dance for tips on Bourbon Street.
Tourists walk and gawk at the scene
Listening to Dixieland and looking for the ghost of Jean Lafitte.

You see her coming toward you as you walk down the street

So you cross on over to the other side so you will not meet.
But in that mountain of flesh there's still a girl

With eyes that flash like diamonds

And hair that shines like night

And the men they cluster round her

As she dances in the stroboscopic light.
So you can call her Candy
Or you can call her Randy
But in her dreams she's still the Belle of Bourbon Street.

The melody for Verse 5 is the same as that for Verse 1.

The melody for Verse 4 is the same as that for Verse 2.

Feel free to perform this song in public, as long as you mention who wrote it. (A mention of the CD, Songs Without Wisdom, and the fact that it can purchased from www.cdbaby.com/carrington would be appreciated too.) If you want to record it, however, you will have to cross my palm with silver. My brother-in-law comes from Sicily.