Pointe Coupee Parish

The last living light Twinkles in his dead eyes Alive a moment ago but now gone Someone should shut them A stare so lonely Into a place that only he knew He’s lying there on the floor Bleeding hard from the head Police don’t even bother Just pay him his respects It’s cold and lonely down there Watching life go on Knowing your no long part of it Just a passenger who had made the final stop It may not be where you are going But it’s definitely where you will be Somewhere down the line. As he bled out no one stopped to care He was nobody to them just a drifter But even a drifter has a mother somewhere His mother would have cared Take him sweet Jesus and show him the way He hath walked with the devil and a sawed off shotgun Wrecked the lives of plenty a poor boy Down on the wharf along the shore Somebody cover him till darkness falls Then we will carry him to Pointe Coupee parish Across the river And find his next of kin Put him deep in that black gumbo And let the devil do his work For John Batiste was a man Who needed no help They’ll be frying up cracklin’s At JP’s on Saturday night Someone will crumble a beer can And cuss John Batiste.