The Lakes of Pontchartrain — Traditional Ballad (Acoustic Folk Version)

The Lakes of Pontchartrain – A Timeless Story in Song

“The Lakes of Pontchartrain” is one of the most haunting pieces in the old folk tradition, travelling across time, oceans, and cultures. Most people today associate the ballad with Ireland, because countless singers in the Irish folk revival brought it to new audiences. However, the scene in this song is firmly set in Louisiana. The lonely traveller is far from home, broke, and facing a future with no certainty. He is taken in by a Creole girl who shows him kindness when everyone else looks the other way. That mix of hospitality, heartbreak, and quiet gratitude is what gives the song its lasting emotional weight.

The song seems to have appeared sometime in the early 1800s. It likely grew out of the chaotic period after the War of 1812, when soldiers, sailors, traders, and drifters moved restlessly through the American South. New Orleans was a port full of goodbyes. The wilderness around the lakes could be beautiful one moment and brutally harsh the next. The songwriter’s identity is unknown, but the melody and storytelling style fit perfectly with the folk tradition where real life and ballad craft blend into one.

Many later singers helped to keep the song alive – but no one person owns it. Just like most traditional tunes, it survived because it was worth singing, not because someone copyrighted it.

What stands out today is the humanity in the lyrics. It is not a song of great battles or heroic legends. It is simply a moment where two strangers meet, one gives shelter without asking for anything, and then life forces them apart. Yet the memory remains. That is why “The Lakes of Pontchartrain” continues to be sung, arranged, and rediscovered again and again.




LYRICS

Twas on one bright March morning
I bid New Orleans adieu.
And I took the road to Jackson town,
my fortune to renew,
I cursed all foreign money,
no credit could I gain,
Which filled my heart with longing for
the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I stepped on board a railroad car,
beneath the morning sun,
I road the roads till evening,
and I laid me down again,
All strangers there no friends to me,
till a dark girl towards me came,
And I fell in love with a Creole girl,
by the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I said, "My pretty Creole girl,
my money here's no good,
But if it weren't for the alligators,
I'd sleep out in the wood".
"You're welcome here kind stranger,
our house is very plain.
But we never turn a stranger out,
From the lakes of Pontchartrain."

She took me into her mammy's house,
and treated me quite well,
The hair upon her shoulder
in jet black ringlets fell.
To try and paint her beauty,
I'm sure 'twould be in vain,
So handsome was my Creole girl,
By the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I asked her if she'd marry me,
she said it could never be,
For she had got another,
and he was far at sea.
She said that she would wait for him
and true she would remain.
Till he returned for his Creole girl,
By the lakes of Pontchartrain.

So fare thee well my Creole girl,
I never will see you no more,
But I'll ne'er forget your kindness
in the cottage by the shore.
And at each social gathering
a flowing glass I'll raise,
And I'll drink a health to my Creole girl,
And the lakes of Pontchartrain.
Location: Ireland

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