Black filigreed grating securing sozzled patrons
gin-smacked grins shout down from the loge
sipping Hurricanes and Sazeracs
taunting google-eyed tourists below

Most were slow to stroll as wide-eyed smiles troll
darkened-door dens consumed in their lust
nude bodies dance and hips at once thrust
a sultry scene petitions ‘come on in'

This river town born from broken backs
slaves to blooms of cotton
primal needs filling iniquitous greed
still found in her ‘Quarter' of sin

N'Ohlens her name
once held claim to fame
wealthiest city in L'America
becoming to both priest and queen
eternal Mardi Gras screams
piquing their sensual scenes

Memories still cling to my Cajun queens
as holding huge steaming plates
crawfish remoulade and Étouffée
or make you feel
"to want to own me?"

This city at night filled our world with delight
With a taste of tunes for the blues
Fats' fingers still waltzing bone intoned keys
Sachmo's whisper fills a bygone breeze

A sax harks the walk to Preservation Hall
as you smell and feel a wet, wild fog
then Katrina blew through and took the night
from the faces in the crowd who roared at the sight
Of Madame Tinkertoy's House of Blue Lights