I traveled from Texas to old Louisianne through valleys o'er mountains and plains Both footsore and weary I rested awhile on the banks of the old Ponchartrain The fairest young man that I ever did see passed by as it started to rain We both found a shelter beneath the same tree on the banks of the old Ponchartrain We hid from the shower an hour or so he asked me how long I'd remain I told him that I'd spend the rest of my days on the banks of the old Ponchartrain I just couldn't tell him that I ran away from jail on a west Texas plain I prayed in my heart I would never be found on the banks of the old Ponchartrain Then one day a man put his hand on my arm and said I must go west again I left him alone without saying goodbye on the banks of the old Ponchartrain Tonight as I sit here alone in my cell I know that he's waiting in vain I'm hoping and praying someday to return on the banks of the old Ponchartrain