Bywater Rag

In Slidell you see the purple lights
Of the laundromats late at night
The crickets chirp that dusk parade
As light continues to fade
She plays it softly into the phone
The bass notes of a slide trombone

Walk down Frenchman street
It was around 6am
I was draggin', I was full of gin
A blast of air from the Marigny
And that girl looks like a siren to me
She passes by, just thinking about her loans
Down at the pawn shop, that's her slide trombone

Drop down mama
Where can your daddy be
Catching crawfish watching black and white tv
He's shooting dice in the July heat
Listening to the carburetors compete
Lights up a Doral, baby, with a groan
Never ever sees that slide trombone

I gotta get through this last shellac
Then down to the pub for honey and Sazerac
A basement down the stairs at night
And that place, it never quite felt right
In the painter's pants with the patches sown
The bartender's got a slide trombone