Metairie, La
Late at night
I lay in the swamp
Waiting for Jesus
My Pa told me that the swamp
Is where he lives
That a copperheads mouth
Is like the Mona Lisa’s face
And a cottonmouth never strikes twice
Now I don’t worry much about the gators
They don’t eat nothing bigger than a dog
So I’m ok laying here drunk in a foot of water
Singing old country songs
The Spanish moss swings in the breeze above me
An a screech owl cries out in the night
Cypress knees all around me
Makes me think of legs wrapped up in mud
And when Jesus comes I’ll be ready
To meet my maker under this canopy
Because if God ever lived anywhere
He lived here in Metairie.
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