This river rolls to a song of life,
a slow slap beat
on the banks.

The water washes my heart and soul;
secrets slip down deep
at polin’ pace.

Ride the current slow and winding
sweat your sins
on the barge of time.

We jus’ one mile south of heaven now
where the river curves
at N’awlins.

Press that pole in the river, man.
Press that pole in the river.

Smell the Quarter and the voo doo jive
floatin’ by and hangin’
by the banks.

One iron fence n’ two alley doors
to the safe house
on the line.

Dotted scarf on the door jamb pine
run on by and hide
don’t stop this time.

Press that pole in the river, man.
Press that pole in the river.